Judgment Day
by The Devil Wears Westwood
Summary: SEQUEL TO GAMBLING DAY!"I would have hoped you would have replied to my letter, Sherlock. It would have saved a good deal of time. I have your next case for you, detective," she smiled, pulling a letter out of her sleeve. Holmes/OC Watson/OC
1. Chapter 1

Having decided to hit the ground running, I got to the writing of this chapter. Please R&R. I would like about 15 reviews before I post chapter two :).

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Chapter 1:

Sherlock Holmes had never been a man to take a break. Whether it be for a moment, a day, an hour, or longer, he would rather focus on his work then be separated from it. And without a case, he turned into a hermit, locked up inside of his room with his beloved cocaine. However, things were different now that the state of his heart, and his predilections had turned in favor of emotions. However, this demonstration of a complete change of heart was exclusively for Renee's forest green pair of eyes alone. Renee. The name danced around in his mind, as fantasies began to play out in unfathomable amounts of idea as to what she had planned for the day's events. Each day with her was nothing more than a simple mystery placed before him, which created a sense of completeness and perfection as he allowed his mind to wonder from the work and focus his energy on the raven haired beauty that had captured his eye, who as of that moment entered his study, a breathtaking beauty who made his heart flutter at the mere sight of her. A private smile played on her lips. It was _his _smile. A smile that was graceful and filled with such beauty and love that all who bore witness were instantaneously jealous. As she neared him the light fell around her dark locks of hair, creating a halo of light shimmering around her. This beautiful creature before him was a true likeness to one of God's perfect angels. His breath caught. She was much too beautiful and good and kind and pure for him to ever deserve her. Yet here she stood before him. Smiling at him. With her lips. Her eyes. Her heart. She fed him her love and he gratefully drowned in it all."Renee," he rolled off of his tongue, a low groan threatening to escape his throat as she stepped closer to him, taking his hand. He had missed the touch of her gentle hand. It had been several days since he had seen her last. After she had been dismissed from the hospital care, she was left with the suggestion to receive more bed rest. While she had submitted to the doctor's wishes, the detective had been trying to make sense out of Irene's letter, but had failed to do so. His mind returned back onto the present moment, stroking her hand gently. He returned the smile that lingered on his face with one of his own.

Renee felt her heart skip a beat as Sherlock smiled back at her. She had missed his warm, gentle touch, and was glad to be in his presence one again. It had been far too long since she had seen him, and it had caused several nightmares to occur in the once peaceful dreams she had received. However, the images that had flown through her head, even when she was no longer asleep in her bed, had died out of existence, at least for the time being. "Sherlock," she replied, never once allowing the smile to fade off of her face. It was as if he was her knight in shining armor, the kind that was only heard about in the story books. Holmes felt himself shudder as her gentle, loving voice stated is Christian name. Very few people were allowed to address him by his first name, rather than the surname, but only Renee's voice would ever be able to make him tremble with the amount of care behind it. "Are you ready?" she asked, her eyes roaming his figure. His shirt was dirtied, obvious not having been changed for at least a day or two. His face was covered in some type of soot, telling her that he had probably not left the room in the time since she had last seen him. He winked at her, his smile turning into a small smirk across his face. "What have you been up to, Sherlock?" she questioned, trying to get some type of response out of the detective. He, in turn, only stepped closer to her, encircling his arms around her small waist. Pulling her closer to his chest, he kissed her forehead, once again grateful to the fact that Watson had left the home for the day. She, however, pulled away, removing his smile off her face, and turning it into of a more sly nature. "Answer my question," she replied, retaking his hand only.

"What else is there to do when one has nothing to occupy himself?" Holmes replied, the boyish smirk still plastered upon his face. Renee rolled her eyes at him, finding it hard not to press her lips against his. Even when he was using his wit, she was unable to help herself from melting at his charm. "Shall we go now?" he asked, tugging her towards the opened door. Just as he pulled her out of the door, he realized that he had still failed to figure out the location and the plans Renee had for them. Pulling the lead, Renee let out a small giggle as she pulled Sherlock down the stairs behind her, headed towards the door. Amazement was filled in her heart that the detective had been unable to identify what she was going to have him out to do. However, the surprise was nice, as it left opportunity for the world's greatest mind to be dazzled. As soon as they were out of the door, Holmes began to register the thought that his reputation was once again in jeopardy. However, before he had a chance to try and work out a way to hide their intertwined hands, Renee had pulled him down a quiet alley, making her way towards a small forest area. A walk, he realized, was what she had planned for the afternoon. Or was it more than that? Everything about Renee, and his relationship with her, was just as much a mystery to him as the first time he laid his eyes on her perfect form. Following her into the woods, he continued to think, his mind wanting nothing more than to solve the newest case Renee presented for him. Although, he knew all too well that she would not be ecstatic if she knew where his mind was. Yet, what would make her be in such a mood was the clear fact that she had single handedly, once more, pushed a blind fold over his senses, a barricade from any chance he had in figuring her out. Sighing, he allowed his mind to stop trying to figure her plans out, and rather allowing them to relax, a right that his mind rarely exercised.

Renee came to a stop as they reached a meadow area. A small blanket was laid out on the ground, a small basket sitting next to it. A nice break from the rush of everyday life. Something different. Just like her, Holmes decided, a smile still pressed on his face as he sat down. His smile grew as she sat down next to him, her head resting against his chest. His fingertips found the tips of her hair, stroking gently. This was going to be a nice, enjoyable day, he decided, enjoying the silence with his beautiful angel at his side. Here, he could be free of the rest of the world. Free to show Renee that he truly did love her, while, all the while, still keeping his cover as a man of less emotions than normal. This, all in all, would not only keep his reputation alive, but keep her safe from any new foe that he came across. The second, however, was more important than the first. He knew that not only would Renee be unable to endure another traumatic event, and he would not be able to endure watching her going through so. In that moment, he made a vow unto himself. Nothing and no one would hurt his darling Renee every again, he vowed, his fingers still stroking the gentle raven locks of hair she had been blessed with at her birth. Her head rolled up, finding his dark, midnight black eyes with her forest green pair. He saw happiness and security in them. Peace as well. Yet, there was something that lingered in them. Fear, perhaps? Fear of what was the question that arose into his mind. Looking past the mask she was trying to shield herself with, he saw that it wasn't fear. It was something much more, something worse. She was beyond petrified. The thought of nightmares dawned on him. She had told him, shortly before leaving the hospital, that she had images of a living nightmare playing throughout her mind. "All is well," he promised her, his hands still stroking her hair as she tried to convince her. She nodded, not wanting to ruin their afternoon. Kissing the top of her forehead, he rewrapped his arms around her, more securely than they had been before. All would be well, or so he allowed himself to believe for the moment.

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Doctor John Watson walked towards the Duncan home, one intention set clear in his mind. The question had been plaguing his mind ever since the case had come near a closure. Although he had a short amount of time to get to form a relationship with Diana, he found himself unable to keep the idea forced back in a deep cave inside of his mind. Thus, he was going to use his day away from his profession as well as his partner, to present the question to the woman that held his heart. Reaching his hand inside of his pocket, his hand wrapped around the small box that was buried somewhere inside of it. The leather material was all that his hands felt, and his mind was at piece as he knew the jewel inside would remain in a perfected condition. All that he could allow himself to think was the longing to hold her inside of his arms in a more deepened relationship then this, semi courting, they had been living in. Now, it was time for, or so he hoped it would be the proper time, to ask for her to agree to his simple wish. No, but it was not simple. It was far more complex than what he would allow himself to admit. Quietly, he stepped up towards the door, his hand gently knocking upon the light wood. From behind the door he could hear a cat meow. Lovely, he figured, remembering his last encounter with Diana's beloved cat. Following the meows, he could hear a woman, which he knew to be Diana, stepping towards the door. As it opened, she smiled when her blue eyes made the connection with his mud brown ones. "John," she said, moving so that he could step inside of the house. She had not been expecting to see him, at least not any time soon. And there he was, having come unannounced, not that she was ungrateful to his presence. She was quite glad that he had decided to pay her a visit. The quiet of the house was beginning to annoy her, as she wished that her sister would hurry home from her planned afternoon with the detective. However, now that the doctor was in the room, she began to hope that Renee would take the entire day before arriving home. "What brings you around here?" she asked, smiling as their eyes stayed locked, while his hand made a grab for hers. Stroking the skin under his fingers gently, the doctor began to ponder how would be best to begin his journey with the question. He didn't want to rush it out, in fear that it may come out in the wrong fashion. However, he didn't want to look as if he were a bumbling fool either. Sighing, he smiled at her, deciding that he would just have to make the plan up as he went along, as his partner often did.

"I wanted to ask you a question," he stated, closing his eyes tightly in annoyance at the sentence. There were many different ways that would have allowed for him to start the conversation, and the one he had selected was by far the worst. However, he knew there was no turning back from the situation, and he stood up from the chair he had sat himself down in. Staring up at him, Diana's face became confused, trying to determine what was on the doctor's mind. However, before she had a chance to say anything, he was on his knee, in front of her. The scene shocked her, but she was able to identify what was going to come of it. "As there is no male figure for me to ask permission of, I will simply settle for your consent alone. I know, Diana, that we have not had much time together, but I want the time we have together to last," he started, trying not to sound like a fool. Picking up her hands gently with his, he continued with his proposal. "I never want we have together to end, either," Watson added, removing one of his hands from hers to his pocket, pulling out the small leather case. "Which is why I must ask, Diana Duncan, will you allow me the honor of being your husband?" he asked, watching as the tears of joy sprung into her eyes. A nod was her reply, unable to say anything else as her hands reached down to either side of his face, pulling him closer to her for a gentle kiss. After returning the passion in the kiss, Watson pulled away for a moment, long enough to slide the small ring onto her finger, before returning his lips to hers. His wish had been granted.

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No more than an hour had come to past, and for some unexplainable reason, Holmes had an urge to return back to Baker Street once more. Kissing Renee gently, the two gathered the things Renee had laid out, and began to make the journey back upon his wishes. All that he had been able to tell Renee was there was an urge that began to arise inside of him, one that told him a new case was in the making. A new ploy that needed his attention. And as much as he wished the feeling had gone away, he knew that he could not ignore it. However, he was not ready to have her part from his side, and thus requested that she remained with him. Unable to say no to him, was added into the fact that she did not want to leave his side quite yet. She knew the moment that they parted, her mind would float back upon the images of pain and torture that had been inflicted upon her during her time with Christopher Weese. Although a part of her was convinced that telling Holmes of the nightmares would help her, she never would be able to do so. He would never be allowed to know, she decided, even though she was unsure why. Shaking the thought out of her head, she recoiled into his arm as they walked out of the forest.

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The wind had slowly begun to blow, creating the only noise that entered the beloved study of Sherlock Holmes. Irene Adler waited at the window, watching the busy street flash with people passing by. However, none of these people passing by the house were the one her heart ached to see. His face had yet to come into view. Spinning around on her heel, she stood with her back against the window, allowing her midnight black locks to rise with the wind. For some reason, unknown to her, she knew that there was going to be a surprise coming with the arrival of the detective. One that she would never have been able to guess was coming in the air. Shrugging it off, she turned around to face the busy lane of Baker Street once again. The face that she had been seeking came into her view, a smile tugging up with her deep red colored lips, making her ivory skin sparkle. Sherlock Holmes. Her eyes, however, continued to follow his figure, spotting that his arm was extended behind him. His hand was intertwined with another, pulling the tan skinned figure alongside with him as he continued towards Baker Street. She began to ponder who the mysterious woman could be, still awaiting the trip the sleuth would make up the stairs and into his study. She heard the steps of the stairs creak, alerting her that they would soon be inside of the room. Closing the window as the wind continued to gush in, she heard the door swing open, followed by a young women's giggle. "Sherlock Holmes," Irene stated, keeping the same smile plastered on her face. Holmes stopped, staring at Irene for a moment, before stepping away from the woman he had pulled into the room.

An American, Renee registered at the sound of her accent. The appearance began to register in her mind afterwards. She was beautiful. Far fairer than any woman that she had seen around the dirty streets of London. And far more beautiful than the face Renee saw when she passed a mirror. Her mind failed to hear the words that Holmes exchanged with the foreign woman, but found herself amazed as the grand detective returned to her side once more. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, Holmes smiled at the girl in front of us. "Renee," Holmes stated slowly, his voice strong as he began reaching for Renee's hand with his, "this is Irene. She will be joining us for the case," he finished, still staying in the position he had claimed. The detective was standing as if there was no other place he fit into completely other than her side. A sigh of relief threatened to escape Renee in her amazement. The world's greatest mind would over look beauty for something more common.

"Renee," Irene stated, extending her hand outwards toward the other girl. Holmes had quite obviously moved on from his former feelings for her, which did not cause for any jealous to be formed inside of the world known criminal. For if she was being honest to herself, the detective looked happier than she had ever seen before, and as a friend to him, she was in turn happy for him. Sherlock Holmes deserved to be happy, especially for all he did to help her keep out from behind bars. Thus, rather than grow some type of hate for the beautiful woman he had moved his affection onto, she would attempt to make her a friend as well. Renee, after a moment of staring at her hand, shook back. Irene smiled, releasing her hand after a moment of the firm shake. Turning her attentions back to the sleuth she stated, "I would have hoped you would have replied to my letter, Sherlock. It would have saved a good deal of time. I have your next case for you, detective," she smiled, pulling a letter out of her sleeve. "Although you already knew as much. Professor Moriarty is at his old tricks again," she finished, taking a seat across from Renee and Holmes. "And you are going to need all the help you can get," she added, her eyes fixed on Renee.

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And this has been the kick off to the sequel :) Hope you all enjoyed it.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: **Woohoo! I no longer have swimming as a distraction from my writing :). Now I just have to finish school and then I will really have all the time in the world to update! Keep the reviews coming, they are very much appreciated. Another 10-15 before I update again :) Hope nothing seems OOC, especially when it comes to Moriarty. Or repeatitive.

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Chapter 2:

Irene Adler had returned to London. The information had passed through the ears of none other than Professor James Moriarty. Step one of his plan had been completed. The news of a new case would be too much of a temptation for the detective to resist. And once the detective was on the case, he knew that they would end up, coming face to face in the end. Their final battle was in the future, he could sense it. Drumming his fingers against the chair, he awaited the news he had been longing to hear for the entirety of the morning. He had been having the detective followed for several weeks now, having his men pick up on anything that could be of even the smallest help when it came to getting the upper hand over Holmes, the case, and his plot for London. Once everything came into play, in his favor, his goal for the last, almost entire decade, would finally be completed. Had it not been for Sherlock Holmes standing in his way, he would have succeeded far beyond this point. He growled mentally at the thought, but then a smirk took the place of the frustration that would be noted by anyone who looked at his facial expressions. This time, if his men had done what he had instructed, in the step of perfection, he would be able to ruin the detective, thus removing his attentions off of the case. It was only a matter of how he was going to be able to do so. Oh the possibilities, he thought to himself, chuckling wickedly. All depending on what his men would return with would spark which ideas he could actually use. For once, the dominant control was going to be placed into his hands, instead of the prodigy slew foot. There was a knock on his door. His sneer grew, knowing that his men stood on the opposite side of the door. "Enter," he commanded in his gruff, deep voice, his mind ecstatically waiting the report they would have to present to them. Little did he know at that moment that the information they possessed would result in his behavior being nothing more than like a young child, bouncing off the walls on Christmas Day. If he had known the simple fact that the information selected to be shared would give him that reaction, he would have all but jumped out of his chair, acting as a young child would when they had received the present they had dreamed of. However, to Moriarty, the information could be far much more of a reaction. "What do you have for me?" he demanded, cutting straight to the point of business. The men in front of him pushed the smallest one forward, who held a folded up newspaper under his dirtied arm. Slowly, the man walked up to Moriarty's seat, placing the newspaper face up in front of him. Looking down in front of him, Moriarty saw none other than the detective, a smile placed on his lips. He stood beside a woman, who looked to be his age. Her eyes were glued on him, unaware of the photo being shot. There was something in the way she looked at him that caught Moriarty's attention, but he could only attempt to hit the hammer on the nail with such little information. He looked at the headlines of the paper, reading into the paragraph to some extent. This had been the sleuth's last case; he managed to pull from the article. He growled. This was not going to be enough to ruin his enemy. "Harry Jordan," he spat, his beady eyes gluing themselves on the ring leader of his henchmen. "I instructed that you did not return until you had information that would aid me in destroying Sherlock Holmes." Jordan stepped forward, feeling the heat of Moriarty's anger directed on his form.

"It shall," he returned, speaking like Moriarty had taught him to do so. Moriarty leaned back against his chair, pressing his fingertips against the matching ones, his nails tapping against his other hands. "Allow me to explain. That woman has captured the eye of Detective Holmes," he started, looking up at Moriarty's face. It had begun to fill up with a certain light, distinctly starting to ponder the information as it began to come out in more of a full story. Perhaps he could find use in this woman after all. "You had instructed me to follow the detective, keep him under tabs. Which is exactly what I did," he added, managing to keep the attention of the professor. Nodding to continue, Jordan spoke once more, his smirk showing his yellow teeth. "Mr. Holmes appears to be in a_ romantic_ relationship with one, Renee Anne Duncan, the last client of a case," he finished strongly. At this point, Moriarty's face was filled with a pure, devilish excitement. This was far from what he had been expecting to use against the detective, however, it would be suitable. He could play Holmes directly into his hands, using this Renee character as his suit of blackmail. A cruel chuckle erupted from his chest, filling the silent room. "Sir?" Jordan asked, trying to figure as to why his boss would find such amusement in his report.

Moriarty at his men, standing up from his chair and beginning to walk around in his small study, "What proof do we have of this, Jordan?" he asked, wanting to know as much as he possibly could about Sherlock and his love interest. The more he knew, the more he had to use. As brilliant as his nemesis happened to be, as the professor could not try to pretend that the man did not hold talents in his mind, he also had weaknesses, hidden as well as they may be. Once they had been found out, they turned into weapons of mass destruction, which turned into a use for anyone against Holmes. And this time, the ploy was being played out by Moriarty.

"I followed him today sir, into a meadow area. There they stayed for almost two hours, sir, her body close to his, his arms placed around her body. He looked as if he were in a happy bliss," Jordan started, feeding Moriarty the information he had gathered from following Holmes around for the last few weeks. "He was also seen looking through a large selection of rings, picking up several and looking them over, while the doctor browsed them as well," he added, knowing the two events were anything that the devil professor would be able to use. Everything else was nothing but basic, everyday life routines, that even the simplest of men performed. Another laugh of cruelty filled the air, as the professor stalked over to his drawer, pulling out a sheet of paper and ink. After writing the note and sealing it inside of an envelope, he gave Jordan directions to slip it under the house door of the sleuth. Now, he was going to be able to get a firm grasp on the higher hand, knowing that Holmes would be able to do anything except find a way to protect the woman he had become smitten with.

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After discussing the context of Irene's letter with Renee, Holmes slipped down to get the two ladies as well as himself a glass of tea. The two seemed comfortable enough to be left alone, and it gave them a good chance to become acquainted before they would have to work on a case alongside him and Watson. He stirred his cup with the spoon; ignore the sound of the wood hitting the clash cup. The clash annoyed his ears, but he figured it best to wait a few more moments before returning to his study. A knock on the door kept him from continue, as he walked out of the kitchen area and to the entrance. On the floor, just beyond the door, was a white envelope, a small ink-stain covering the tips of the corners. It was addressed to him. Returning to the kitchen, he tore open the envelope, pulling the letter out. He began reading and shortly found that his mind was unprepared for the context that boldly stood out in each word.

_Sherlock Holmes,_

_It has come to my attention that your focuses are not where they should be. Your attentions are distracted off me, which I am very disappointed in you for doing so. Irene Adler has placed the case in front of you, and yet it is very clear that you do not see the important things. So, in an attempt to make our game of back and forth interesting, I have come up with a solution to my pain in the form of Miss Duncan. Since you only have been able to destroy the things you cherish, I will aid you in preventing in doing so. Remove her from your life, or I will, in a far more painful way. _

_M. _

His heart was racing, and pumping as if it were about to jump out of his chest. How could this have happened? How could he have allowed this to have happened? He should have never consented to going into public with just Renee. Now Moriarty had some sort of knowledge about her, and the professor being the man that he was, without a doubt, was going to find a way to use her against him. He knew, even if she did not show it, that there was a huge part of Renee that was unable to push past the nightmares. That every time he looked at her, touched her, kissed her, held her, her mind flew back to the torture that Weese had inflicted upon her. Moriarty would not do the same acts Christopher Weese had done, but to some extent, they would be worse and even more of a horror to place upon her. However, he did not want to have to split away from her. He was happy, and she was as happy as she could possibly be while still fighting demons. Consequences began to play into his mind; however, it all showed that he didn't know what Moriarty knew about the relationship. For all he knew, the professor could have read the article and had his men spot the two of them in public once. However, he knew the more that his enemy knew about Renee, the more she would be in trouble. The more cautious he was going to have to be when it came to her. From then on out, he had to put more thought into his actions before doing them, instead of when they were in the middle of happening. If not, he could end up losing her in several different fashions. Just then, the door swung open, a rather cheerful Doctor John Watson almost swaying into the room. At least someone's day was going well, Holmes decided, looking down at the letter in his hands. He needed the advice of his partner on what he should do about this. "Watson!" He called out, giving away his position in the kitchen. Watson shook out of his love stricken state, as he headed towards the sleuth. Once in front of his partner, he could tell that there was something, something very grave, sketched out on the face of his colleague.

"Holmes?" Watson questioned, looking over the detective. There was a tremble that escaped his body. Clearly, there had been an event to spook the man. And it would have to have been almost gruesome to have the detective at a fright. He had not seen Sherlock acting like this since Renee had almost passed, and it began to worry about him. "Holmes," he stated again, stepping closer to his friend. Before he was able to place a hand of comfort and support on the detective, the shaking arm stuck out to him, a letter in his palm. Taking the letter, Watson quickly read over it and understood what had gotten into his mind. This was going to be a difficult situation to work out of, he decided, watching as the detective struggled not to turn pale in his attempt to quit quivering.

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Review? You know you want to :)


	3. Chapter 3

**AN**: At last, we have the 3rd chapter :). Sorry about the wait. Had some school things to attend to :(. Anyway, here we are with the update. Another 15 reviews til I update again :). R&R.

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Chapter 3:

Arms folded neatly in her lap; Irene Adler awaited the return of the detective, finding an uncomfortable, awkward silence while alone in Renee Duncan's presence. It was not that she was jealous, or would ever form the feelings of jealousy for the woman that was now in the eyes, heart, and mind of Sherlock Holmes. From what she could tell, which was not as much as Holmes would have deduced, yet was plenty enough, she was an intelligent woman, was clearly different in character, for if she was not the sleuth's midnight eye wouldn't have landed on her, and she made him happy. Holmes of all men in the world deserved that happiness, Irene decided, as her eyes flickered back onto Renee, who stood against the opposite wall, looking out the window. Thinking to herself for a few moments longer, Irene debated which words would be proper to speak in order to break the silence. She could be blunt. State her intentions without a doubt. Or she could slowly get there. The options were there, she just had to decided which would over all end in being a better choice to get the two started a track of being acquaintances, or even possibly friends. Hope of either hung on word selection.

Renee looked at the outside world, trying to keep herself from making any eye contact at the American. Was she threatened by her presence? Was she threatened at Holmes' previous feelings for her? Renee couldn't decide. All she knew was that Irene was beautiful, far more beautiful then she could ever hope to be. Irene had to be almost as intelligent as Sherlock himself, as she was in as much of the detective's favor as Watson. Special too she decided, if Holmes' eye had landed on her and managed to stay there, for what Renee guessed had to be a long period of time. Why Holmes had never mentioned Irene Adler would remain a mystery to her. Perhaps it was because he didn't want her to feel the need to be envious. Perhaps he knew that she would be feeling the way she did if her minds became aware of his past relationships. In that moment, she realized that no matter how much better Irene seemed to be, Holmes had found some reason to let her go. Smiling to herself at the thought, she knew that the detective was also not the type of man to allow his heart to mess around with women. Renee knew in that moment, she held his heart, no matter how plain she seemed. The idea of Irene Adler being a threat vanished from her mind, as she spun around, picking up the letter as she headed towards the seat in front of the foreigner. It was time to make Irene a friend, especially since they would be working alongside each other as they aided Sherlock in his newest case. Irene herself had stated that the detective would need all the help he could receive, and she wasn't going to let an unneeded feeling of jealousy get in the way of a case.

"Renee," Irene stated, in her perfect angelic voice. However, Renee let the sound of it go, nodding in response, the smile not removing itself from her face. "I would just like to tell you that what was between myself and Sherlock is no longer existent," she added. Renee nodded, unsure as to what to say. Irene smiled, picking up on her confusion. "The detective deserves a piece of happiness. And from what I have seen, you are his form of happiness. I could never dream of taking that away from him," she finished, the smile still upon her face. Due to her words, Renee's fears died entirely, no longer having to view the American as nothing but a friend in the making.

"Thank you," Renee whispered, glad the air between them had been cleared. She pressed out the letter that Holmes had crumpled up, as he did everything else. Her eyes running over it, she began to read aloud. "Mr. Sherlock Holmes. I am in grave need of your assistance. News of your talents has reached ear to ear in Whitechapel, and it is time that we call on your mind to solve this case. A murder was committed, almost two weeks prior to the writing of this letter. A young woman was murdered, with no clear leads as to who could be responsible. Her throat was slit, with a small blade, as the cut was not wide, yet it was deep. We found her in the early hours of the morning, lying in a pool of blood on the corner of a street, outside of what we presume to be her household. We would appreciate it if you would find a way out to our district, and begin working through this case. Sincerely, Inspector Tobias Gregson."

"Clearly, we are not being told everything," Irene stated, knowing that Holmes would need more than the small details this inspector was providing. She couldn't help but release a small chuckle, her mind flashing back into all the times Holmes would complain about Lestrade. This Gregson was almost a mirror image of Lestrade, and she had never even met him. She watched as Renee nodded in her response, trying to deduce things like Holmes had been teaching her. "There had to be at least, even in the smallest, a lead. There always is," Irene added, remembering the detective stating a similar line before.

"I agree," Renee stated. Irene smiled, showing her pearly white teeth. Both girls were glad that the other was finding reason to agree with the assumptions. Passing the note over to Irene's hands, Renee added, "Holmes would agree that there is not enough detail," her voice positive. "The obvious," she decided, "is what Gregson wrote into his letter while writing out his cry for help," Renee finished, wondering if Holmes would be able to work with the case or not. As amazing as his brain was, the good evidence would have been washed away in the streets at this point, leaving the only real option left, as horrific as it may be, to wait until the murder struck again to make a movement.

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Sherlock Holmes leaned against the wall, his body still trembling. How serious was this note to be taken? Since it was coming from none other than Moriarty himself, Holmes knew that the heartless, dark man would do whatever it took to gain a tight hold in the matter whenever it came to a case. How he had acknowledge Renee was a mystery to him. Were the professor's men following him, trying to find a way to break past the shield he had set himself up in? The answer was clear. Of course his nemesis would be doing as such. And allowing himself to walk into the public area with Renee's hand intertwined with his had given his foe the key he needed to barge in past the defenses. "Watson," Holmes stated, trying to grab a handle of his racing emotions, yet unable to do so. "What road am I meant to follow?"

It was the first time, or at least the first time that Watson could remember, that Detective Sherlock Holmes had ever looked upon him for a suggestion, let alone an entire answer. In that moment the question was spoken, the doctor realized how perturbed his companion was. Placing a supportive hand on his friend's shoulder, the strong, military side of him spoke out. "What do you think is best, old chap?" He asked, knowing that the decision would, all in all, rely on whether or not the detective chose to give into the demands, or continue on living his life in bliss with Renee, while continuing his life as a consulting detective.

"She is the best thing that has ever walked into my life," Holmes stated, without a single doubt in his mind. He was not willing to risk her. Nor was he willing to lose her. The simple thought of telling her the threat processed in his mind. How would she react to the news? Timid? He was lucky that she still allowed him near her, after everything that Weese had put her through. What would Moriarty's threat do to her unstable mind? Destroy her, he deduced. Telling her of the threat was by far out of the question. "I do not want to watch her walk out on me," Holmes stated, strongly.

"Well, then you have made your decision," Watson stated, picking up a cup and pouring himself a glass of tea. Looking back into the midnight eyes, he saw that there was a cloud of mist in them, still unsure as to what would be the most desirable idea. The grandest road to journey upon. "Holmes?" He asked, wanting his partner to speak the thoughts that lingered inside of his already crowded mind. "There is more to it than that, isn't there," Watson asked, wondering as to if there was some battle of debate outplaying in the mind of the sleuth.

"There is always more than one side to a story, Watson," stated Holmes, as he let out a sigh. A sigh, Watson knew was uncommon for the genius. Pouring another glass of tea, Watson placed it inside of the now still hands of Sherlock. Nodding his head in thanks to his friend, he took a small sip from it. A vow began to form inside of his head. He would protect Renee at all cost from the danger Professor James Moriarty would present as an obstacle. "I won't let her be harmed," Holmes stated, more to himself than the doctor, but Watson nonetheless heard his speech. "But I am not going to cower in fear and dismiss her from my life."

"If you believe you can protect her, then I say to go for it, Holmes," Watson stated, finishing his glass of tea and placing it next to the stack of other unclean pieces of dishware. He gave one last nod to his companion, before heading up towards the stairs, retreating to his own room. When he reached his room, he had realized he had failed to tell Holmes the result of his proposal, but knew it would have to wait. Deciding that he was fine with the wait, Watson began to write in another one of his journals once more.

Holmes remained in the kitchen, not wanting to remove himself from the spot. If he chose to do so, he would find himself giving away the matter of the note, which he did not want to do. Hearing the sound of a person ascending down the stairs, he tossed the note into the remainder of his tea, knowing that it would not be Watson upon the wood. Entering the kitchen was none other than his beautiful Renee. Beckoning her over to his arms, he knew he needed to feel the comfort, the secure feeling of her head against his chest. The warm feeling that grew inside of his heart every time he held her tenderly. He needed that. "Renee," he whispered into her hair, feeling his nerves begin to break away. This was perfect, or at least for now it would do. He continued to hold her against him, hearing her speak something to it, yet not allowing it to register inside of his mind. For that moment, he had a plan. Moriarty and his men would not touch her so long as he had a say in it.

* * *

Turning to Harry Jordan, Moriarty smirked at the letter's delivery. He, however, knew Sherlock Holmes' nature. The detective would find a loophole out of the threat. If he did not have them watched, that was. He chuckled, as he assigned several of his trusted men to their newest task. "I want our dear detective's pet to be watched, more carefully then I have had you track in the past. That girl is the key to the downfall of Holmes, and I do not want to miss an opportunity," he laughed. "Do whatever it takes to ensure Holmes realizes the true nature of my message." And with that, he sent away his man to do his newly claimed task.

* * *

I do hope that my means of placing Tobias Gregson in this story work out well. If not, well, I tried. Reviews are appreciated! You know you want to :)


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Woohoo! We are almost to 50 reviews already. I think I may cry. :) **My deepest apologize about the long wait on this update. I have been trying to work everything out so I don't feel as if I am repeating things from the Gambling Day. Hope you all enjoy! R&R please.

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Chapter 4:

Harry Jordan received the needed instructions in the early hours of the morning from the Professor. Awaiting him, not far from Moriarty's quarters, was a simple coach. He was to act as nothing more than an innocent driver, intent on moving people from location to location. However, he would be eyeing Baker Street, awaiting Holmes' departure or the arrival of the girl. If Holmes was to leave his apartment, his orders were to follow. Moriarty seemed convinced that the detective would not listen to the issued threat. The professor had told him that the sleuth was prone to attempt a loophole, and he was to be there to catch it. Jordan didn't understand the reasoning Moriarty put into the task, but nonetheless had gone through with orders. Jordan had been waiting for so long that he had lost track of time. The sun beat down unmercifully and made hiding all the more difficult. He wanted to twitch or scratch the itch between his shoulder blades. No one had come or gone all day and he was beginning to wonder if anyone was home. Then he saw what he had spent hours of misery waiting for. The door cracked open. He straightened and waited for Holmes to come out.

To his great disappointment out stepped Watson, followed by Irene Adler, who shut the door behind her, without any signs of reopening. It appeared to be as if the doctor was the only one of the two men to be home, he thought, as he watched the medical man locked the front door to the apartment home. Holmes would not exit behind him. Jordan knew he would have to change his plans and follow Watson and hope, as pathetic as hope was that he led him to Holmes and the bird. Where else could the two assistances be headed? Holmes knew he would be followed. Of course he did, Jordan reasoned. Using the crowd as his shield, Jordan was able to keep up without being suspected. What he did not expect, however, was that Watson and Irene would walk out into the country, making their way to a single house that stood alone, nothing but grassland surrounding it.

Holmes woke up to find the tail of a cat swishing over his nose. Tommy. Pushing himself off of the floor, he pushed Renee's cat across the ground. Cats were pests of animals, he thought to himself, as the beady black eyes glared up at him. Or perhaps the cat didn't like him for the same reasons it didn't like Watson. Shrugging, Holmes found his way to the sofa, where he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. In an attempt to shake off the scent of Professor Moriarty, he had taken Renee home in the dead hours of night, remaining at her home for his hours of sleep. However, he had not told her his plans to remain in their house. On the floor of all things. At least she hadn't waked yet. He could easily say that he allowed himself in, and was waiting her departure down the stairs so they could begin the case work. It was an easy enough lie, he decided. He heard a pound on the stairs. She was headed down. However, before he had a chance to turn around to face her, he felt a sharp nail drag its way over his arm, drawing blood. Ignoring the cat, he spun around. To his disappointment out stepped the future Miss Watson, rather than his Renee. Lovely, Holmes thought to himself. She was going to give him hell for being inside of the home without having been welcomed in.

"Tommy!" Diana's voice yelled at the cat. Holmes looked down to the small cat, and could have sworn to see a smirk on its face. Picking up the cat, she looked at Holmes, trying to decide if he was real or not. What was he doing in their home, this early in the morning? And more importantly, who had let him in? She had only told Renee to wake up before making her way down the stairs. "Holmes, how did you get in here?" she stated, unimpressed with his presence. "I thought Renee and I were to meet you at Baker Street in an hour?" she questioned, still receiving no answer from the sleuth.

"Sherlock?" a new voice stated. Renee. Holmes smiled as she made her way down the wooden steps. Diana was still glaring at him, as Tommy also was appearing to do so, but he overlooked both. His eyes were glued on her. She was happy to see him, and that was all that mattered. His dreams had been filled of things Moriarty's men could inflict on her, and it was a comfort to see her unharmed. She made her way over to his side, the smile never once leaving her face. It wasn't until she stood next to Diana that he remembered two of the three other sets of eyes weren't as pleased with him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, wrapping her arms around his waist, giving him a hug. She needed that comfort. Another nightmare had haunted her. This time, however, she had been able to stop it before she woke up in a fright. Holmes returned the simple hug, before she looked up into his eyes. Little did they know how petrified the other was, nor how much comfort they were taking out of the simple hug. Pulling away, Renee went to intertwine their fingers, when she found a warm, sticky substance on her finger. Blood. But she wasn't bleeding. She looked over Holmes. He was. "What happened?" she worried, pulling him into the kitchen, where she wet a damp towel.

"Your cat," he stated, with a small smile as she stopped the bleeding. "He isn't too fond of Watson and me," he added, a small chuckle following. Renee rolled her eyes, before cleaning off her own fingers. Once she had thrown it back into the bowel of water, Holmes grabbed her shoulders, pulling her into him. Unaware what had caused the movement, he slowly moved his head closer to hers, placing his lips gently against hers. His mind was blown away the moment the skin touched. He needed an escape, and it allowed it. His mind was clear. His tongue found its way into her mouth for a short moment. Then, a small meow filled the room, and he pulled away. Renee smiled, opening her mouth to speak. Before she could, there was a knock on the door, which she went to answer. Holmes all but glared down at Tommy. "Stupid cat," he muttered, walking towards the door behind Renee.

Outside of the home stood Watson and Irene, both prepared for the first day on the case. Shaking his head at his partner, the doctor pulled out a small revolver from his coat pocket, handing it to Holmes. "Try to remember it for once," he told Holmes, as he stepped past the both of them, heading to give Diana a few moments of attention before they left to being their newest case. Stepping outside of the house with Renee, the two waited alongside Irene for Watson and Diana to finish closing up the Duncan home for the day. Hearing the door open and shut, the five started towards the gate. Holmes walked with Renee and Watson, while Diana and Irene followed behind.

Jordan leaned against a tree, laughing at what he saw in front of him. His eyes widened with pleasure. The bird and hawk are still together. His master was not going to be pleased. This made him happy. He dropped into deep thought of all the things he could do to the little birdie if his master let him. So much potential. He could make the birdie his. Take from Holmes something that he held dear. He would claim her. Nobody else would have her. The birdie would have her wings broken and be stuck in a cage with him. He loved the thought. But how to do it? There in was the problem. What if the professor said no? He would still take the bird. He didn't love; no he loved the idea of hurting Holmes.

A wicked smile appeared on his face. He would go back and tell exactly what he saw. And if the professor said no, well he had always wanted to be his own boss. How to break her though? Torture was too good for her. He could always force to be his and remind her that Sherlock's life depended on it. It didn't of course but she would never have to know. Or if he really wanted to break her, he could give her to his men for fun. So many choices. He slipped out of hiding and with the thoughts still fresh in his head he made for the hideout. His twisted mind continued to conjure images of the little birdie. She was by far fairer than any woman he had seduced in the past. And to take her away from Holmes, to destroy her, would in turn please the professor. If the professor said yes, they could destroy the detective in a few, simple tricks. This time, they were going to be successful. This time, they were going to win.

* * *

The coach ride over to Whitechapel was filled with silence. Diana was sat in Watson's side, while Irene sat next to Renee, who was holding Holmes' hand, her mind still trying to shake the images of the nightmare. She allowed her mind to wonder. She needed to tell him. He would be able to help her, or so she thought. She needed to be honest with him, that she knew. However, she also knew that it was going to have to wait, at least until they were done in Whitechapel. He needed to focus on his case, and she was only there because he had requested that she and Diana accompanied them. She would have to get him on his own, sit him down somewhere they could have an uninterrupted talk. Her head found his shoulder, resting as her eyes blinked closed, attempting to pick up a few minutes of missed sleep. Holmes smiled down at her, keeping a firm hold on her hand. He was beginning to not care if people such as Watson, Irene, and Diana saw him display a few, simple moments of affection. All that mattered to him was that Moriarty's men would not pick up on them.

The coach came to a stop, and Holmes gently awoke Renee before helping her out of the coach. They had reached the location of the last murder. Awaiting them was a large, tow-headed man, with a few men behind him. Holmes approached them, only to find his hand being shook. "Mr. Sherlock Holmes," the man started, letting go of the detective's hand. "I am Inspector Tobias Gregson," he stated. The way the man rolled the word inspector off of his tongue was enough, without the man's proud way of standing, to tell Holmes that Gregson was almost a carbon copy of Lestrade. He blinked his eyes before a roll formed. It would be a horrid first impression, although it would be an appropriate one. Why couldn't any of the official force ever be good at their job?

Holmes spun around on his heel, looking over the yard of the home he found themselves at. Everything, every last trace of a clue had been buried. Why the men of Whitechapel hadn't called him out earlier was a mystery within itself. There was mud that mixed in with the grass. The last rain would have washed away any leftover footprints or blood that could have been found. Imbeciles! How could they have not started to pull things away when they had first arrived at the scene?

He walked up towards the home, finding his face in the widow. It was clear, the sun shining enough to give him a look inside of the home. The man was not wealthy, but he was not poor either. He would be able to extract who the man was, and possibly a reason for his death. But he would not be able to pull any information about his murder. Or so he did not think he was going to. Unbeknownst to Holmes, his four companions had also begun looking around on the grounds. And even if he had known, he would have never expected for Irene and Renee to find what he needed. "Holmes!" Renee stated, walking quickly over to his side. She gestured over to where Irene stood, crouched over, her fingers in the grass. Bending next to her, Holmes discovered what the two had found.

Glass. And up on the glass was a smear from where a finger would have held it. Dried blood, as well as fresh. He looked at Irene's fingers. Although her blood would be on the small device, he would be able to use it to their advantage. It would be the only clue he would be able to walk of Whitechapel with. Perhaps it would be a good idea to stay in a hotel, he thought to himself for a moment. Walking back over to Tobias, Holmes showed him the glass. "This is the murder weapon," he stated, as he produced a small hand towel from his pocket, wrapping the glass up gently. He turned to the four he had brought with him, his head gesturing towards the carriage. Before he joined them, he spoke once more to Gregson. "Next time inspector, do inform me before you decided to clear the area of any other useful clues," he stated.

* * *

Jordan's feet pounded beneath him as he quickly made his way bad to the hideout. A gruel smile spread on his lips. Moriarty was going to love the little nugget of information he had for him. Slipping into the home was easy, the smirk still plastered on his face as he made his way to Moriarty's private study. There he found the professor playing chess, as he often did. Standing against the door, he awaited the professor to address his presence before speaking. The professor was deep in contemplation and to disrupt him would be hazardous to his health. However Moriarty had spotted him when he first entered the room and waited to see how long the man could wait. It didn't take long till the man started to fidget and with a smile on his face Moriarty turned his attentions to him. "Yes?" He inquired.

Stepping away from the door, he could feel the smirk still upon his face. "I followed Holmes, as you requested. And the hawk did not disappoint. He is still seeing his little bird." The reaction he was to receive was far from the one he expected, as Moriarty threw the chessboard off of his desk and onto the ground, clearly angered at the announcement.

The smile fell from Moriarty's face. "Does he not think that a lion can slay a hawk?" He asked outraged. "We must send him a new message one that he is sure to understand." The detective was going to be forced to take him seriously, no matter what force he had to inflict. He found himself chuckling at the thought. While he would have hoped that Holmes would have listened, this only gave him a longer amount of time to play with his enemy. Nothing wrong with playing with his hawk.

Jordon slipped further into the room his eyes gleaming with malicious intent. "How would you like us to proceed?" Perhaps, this time, the professor would allow them to pounce on the little bird. She was quite beautiful, and he would love a chance to play. As much to his surprise, the matter was going to turn out in his favor.

Moriarty prolonged his answer, wanting to see if Jordan would speak what he wished to do. However, the man kept quiet, waiting. "The little birdie must leave the cage sometime," he started, a cruel grin spreading further over his face before he continued. "When she does follow her and show Holmes that he messes with cats." Moriarty allowed a full laugh at the statement, whilst Jordan's smirk managed to grow from ear to ear. Looking down at his arm, he saw the cut that lingered from the last fight he had had with Holmes while doing the professor's biding. Revenge would be sweet. And the wounds he would force upon the detective's weakness would be far worse than the one he had been issued.

Jordan smirked. He had hoped the professor would say something along those lines. "And how many men would you like me to include in this, sir?" he asked. The task would be an interesting one, with several different lay outs depending on the answer he was to receive. The more, the better, Jordan thought to himself, knowing that he would have a chance at fighting off Holmes, should the detective appear to play hero.

"Take five of your more gruel men and impose the reality of a such a message on our birdie," he responded, picking up the chessboard and replacing the pieces in their proper places. "Sherlock Holmes must understand that his attentions should be placed on me and me alone," he stated, as he returned to his seat in front of his game. His foes undivided attention, he thought to himself. He would not tolerate their game of cat and mouse to be placed on hold while Holmes allowed his life to be filled with romance.

Jordan smiled a huge a smile and mock bowed to the professor. "Your will shall become reality." With that he slipped out of the room to leave Moriarty with his game of chess. Jordan went to gather some of his 'better' looking men to complete the job. He was going to enjoy this.

Moriarty's smirk remained on his face long after his man had left, as he continued to play his mind game with the board. Moving around several of the pieces, he let out a small chuckle. He stood, opening the window to the midday's rain. "Checkmate Holmes," he laughed as the storm grew worse. It would be all the better If his men left Holmes' muse in the dreadful weather. Either way, by the end of the day, his threat was going to be understood.

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Hope you enjoyed it. Reviews bring updates :)


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Yay! We've gotten to 50 reviews! Let's see if we can double that by the end of chapter 7 or 8 :) R&R

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Chapter 5:

Moriarty sent his men out on their task, having given them instruction. He didn't care how much harm he gave to Holmes' pet. For the matter, he preferred that she be in a worse state when she arrived at his hiding grounds. He would keep her locked up and away from the detective, making sure that Holmes understood that any attempts to foil his plans would result in her death. Not that he ever planned to let her free once he had her in his grasps. To do so would release the ultimate chips against his enemy, and he was not a foolish man. Watching as his men disappeared; he smirked and hoped that their mission would not take long. The sooner Holmes was out of the game, the better.

* * *

Having refused to leave Holmes' side after their trip to Whitechapel, Renee wrapped her arm under his, keeping their hands intertwined. What she saw in his eyes when he glanced down at her worried her. There was something missing, the joy and love he had when he had a case in front of him. He looked as if there was something troubling him, which he couldn't trust to tell her. Without thinking about it, she let go of his hand, but kept next to his side as they reached a crowded area of the street.

Pushed apart by the crowd, Holmes began to search frantically for Renee. He didn't want her out of his sight. There was fear inside of him, fears that he would not allow himself to show. What if Moriarty's men spotted her? They were far from her home, and far closer to Baker Street. If assumptions were made, his mind started to think, before pushing them out. No, he would find his Renee and keep her safe from harm.

Renee found herself walking, without Holmes next to her side. Knowing the way back to Baker Street, she attempted to make the journey. Then, out of nowhere as if on cue, a voice called out her name. Her foggy memory didn't recall it, so she continued walking towards her destination. The call grew louder and louder with each passing moment, as someone quickly began to gain on her. Renee's heart was pounding at this point, and she walked faster, refusing to look back. Missing her turn, she found herself going down a darker alley, shaded from the rest of the world. A pair of arms grabbed her tightly around the waist, while a hand cupped her mouth, keeping her from screaming. Further into the alley they dragged her, until they reached a small, secluded area, where several other gruff men stood, their eyes roaming over her. The two pair of arms let go of her, standing in front of her with the others. Renee wanted to turn to run, only to find an arm around her waist, a piece of cold, rusty silver at her next.

Inhaling her scent, the man chuckled against her tan skin as she stiffened. "Boss told us you was a pretty one," he laughed, his eyes moving up her face. "Didn't tell us how pretty you was gunna be though." His lips were breathing directly onto her neck, enjoying the tremor of fear that had come across her. Renee tried to struggle, only to find him press the blade against her neck. "We ain't gunna hurt you, Missies," he laughed, removing his arm around her waist, but keeping the knife to her neck, which forced her against his chest. "Boss just wanted to show Mister Holmes his intentions. See, we has reason to believe that Mister Holmes sees you as nothing more than a pretty lil' thing. So we Is gunna take your beauty away from you," he laughed, pressing the blade against her cheek. Renee's leg flew into his crotch, causing him to throw her forward towards the other men.

"Well, that wasn't very smart, now was it?" said the one who now held her, as his fingers began to run freely in her hair. He was clearly more educated then the other who had been speaking. He could feel her well developed body trembling against his chest. "Now we may just have to hurt you more than we intended," he laughed, pulling her hair so that her head fell backwards, causing her to look up into his dark, cruel eyes. His free hand found her back, clawing into the skin. He continued to rip apart her soft skin, and Renee could feel the blood beginning to ooze out. She summoned her strength and punched his chest. In a shocked response, he threw her to the ground, snarling. The circle of Moriarty's men came closer to her, smirks drawn over their faces. All laughing. Cruelly and in pleasure. Her mind began to spin, unsure of her surroundings.

All she could hear was the laughter, as a boot connected with her rib cage. She wanted to scream out. Scream out to Holmes and prayed he found her. Or was he still lost in the crowd of people? Would he ever be able to come and save her? Or would Moriarty's men be able to take her away. "Holmes!" She screamed, pleading, not with the men, but with the world that he would find her. "Sherlock," she whispered, her eyes beginning to blink closed as her heart rate accelerated with the fear.

The voice that met her pleas was foggy in her mind, and wasn't registered holly. Had it been, she would have heard the ring leader state, "The detective isn't coming for you." The men laughed as they watched her begin to pass out. As soon as she was completely unconscious, they would pick her up and carry her back to Moriarty, as their boss had commanded them to do so.

Before they could however, there was a growl. As powerful as any hound dog. The laughter stopped as a head connected with a wall. Whimpers of pain followed the connection, the sound of running filling her ears after it. The sound of running feet filled the air as the defeated men retreated. One of the braver men of the group stopped at the alleys end and turned toward Holmes. "You think you have won? You never could keep the pretty ones safe! But don't you worry, Mr. Holmes, we know how to treat pretty little birds like her! Moriarty has plans for that birdie and we will be all too happy to oblige him!" Then a cackling laughter filled the alley as the man over stayed him welcome. Holmes picked up a chunk of lose brick and with a well placed aim silenced the man the moment the stone connected with his neck.

Scooping Renee into his protective arms he aimed a growl at the rest of the retreating group. "Come near her again and you will all end up like your friend!" With that he turned hard on his heel and marched towards Baker Street. His eyes were roaming all the damage they had done, but he managed to remain calm. He was alone, she was wounded, and there were six of Moriarty's men still standing and able to fight. If he turned around, he knew all too well that he would be over powered. And he would not risk the chance that they would be able to harm his Renee even more than they already had.

With the detectives back turned the group regained their nerve. "Here birdie, birdie, birdie. We know how to treat one as fair as you. You're just going back to a gilded cage. Come with us little birdie, fly free. Here birdie, birdie, birdie." The men continued to snicker at their remarks, until Holmes disappeared into the streets once more.

Holmes knew all too well that Renee was too weak to have heard what Moriarty's men had been saying to her, but they had registered in his head and were replaying. Resisting the urge to turn and fight Holmes quickened up his pace. Get her into the light to a crowded street. That was the mantra that ran through his head to block out the tautening goons. He could hear her whimper against him, afraid and hurt.

Renee's mind begin to register its surroundings, if only just barely. She was floating. No, someone was moving her. A voice spoke at her stirring. "You're safe now," the voice stated, the tone trying to appear to be strong although there was a different emotion in it. Her detective was scared. "I'm here Renee," he promised, but neither was sure for whose benefit. Ignoring the eyes of the people in the streets, Holmes continued towards Baker Street, wanting Watson to look over any serious wounds that the Professor's men might have inflicted on her.

This was the first time he realized that Moriarty was more than serious about his threat. His body threatened to tremble, but he could not allow it. Not until he was on his own. Watson had been right; of course Watson had been right. Renee was going to be in danger until the day he quit being who he was. And that was never going to happen. Once inside Baker Street, he allowed one tear to slip down his cheek, but pushed back the others as he called out to the doctor. "Watson!" He all but screamed at the top of his lungs. He started up the stairs, as Watson began to rush down them. "She needs your talents," he stated, his voice filled with worry as he continued up the stairs towards his room. Placing her on his bed, Watson rushed in, carrying his tools.

Holms sat in his chair, trying to inhale oxygen as he told Watson what he had found. Once his lips and pushed off the words, "Moriarty's men," the doctor had stopped, spun around on his heel, and looked at the detective's fearful face. Before they had a moment to continue, however, Renee began to stir. They would finish the conversation later. Decide what needed to be done later. Taking her hand, Holmes began to stroke the bruised skin as her eyes fluttered open. "Renee, I'm sorry," he babbled, not sure where his apology had flown from. "I will never allow this to happen again," he promised, still not sure where the words were coming from. Weakly, she pulled his hand up to her cheek, nodding. In her mind, she was frightened to keep his hand near her, since it always turned to one man or another hurting her. But her heart needed him to get over the rush of fear that was swollen up inside of it. Her eyes fluttered shut just as quickly as they had opened her mind unprepared for the nightmare to follow.

* * *

The study was quite. Jordan had just finished telling the professor what had happened. "Well, things aren't quiet going the way I had planned." He was deadly calm. The kind of calm that comes before a lion jumps out of the grass to kill its prey. Jordan knew the next words he spoke could mean the difference between life and death.

"That is true sir." He started as if he was walking on thin ice. "But what we lacked to do we made up by hurting the bird. I'm sure if you send him another message he is sure to take it seriously this time." Moriarty turned slowly around. Jordan had to shallow had to keep from gasping. The professor's eyes were like the flames of hell itself. The intensity that they burned told Jordan that he was surly a dead man. "I gave you specific orders," Moriarty started, appearing to be calm. Like a sea just before the storm. "Yet you failed to do so." Jordan watched as the professor's hand flew down to the gun that rested at his side. "You are in luck Jordan. I will not kill you. Not this time." He sneered, turning his back to his man once more. "If you fail me again, yours will be the next dead body." Not wanting to test his luck Jordan slipped out of the room to leave Moriarty with his thoughts. The professor heard him leave and let his mind unleash its rage. He roared and kicked out at the table that held his chessboard. He could not believe the fools who worked for him. He needed someone new, someone better. He had to find someone before the hawk got wise and made a move that was not part of his plan.

He blew around the room like a tornado unleashing its furry. When he stopped the room was a mess. Papers were throw everywhere his fists were clutched so tight that blood started to leak out and drip onto the paper he was standing on. He glanced down and as if a light had suddenly come on in the darkness he found his answer.

He was standing on a newspaper with the latest headline about Jack the Ripper. He smiled. That was the answer. He would enlist the only other man Holmes had been unable to catch. Together they would be the perfect team. But how to lure him out? He couldn't leave this to one of his lackeys they would surely mess it up. He would have to lay bait so tempting that Jack couldn't refuse and there he would confront him. He only went after center woman. The women of the night as the paper called. Whores were the real word that they could not print. Maybe if he hired a group of these 'ladies of the night' he would surly show up. Like a farmer slaughtering sheep he would have free range to do whatever he wants. It would be too tempting to pass up. A laugh filled the room. This time, he would win.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: **First off, I would just like to thank all of my school friends who I have converted to Sherlock Holmes-obessionness for their reviews. Second off, as of tomorrow, I am off until August 23rd. Which means lots and lots of updates, which I will attempt to maintain while I go off on several different vacations. Third off, I would like to thank every one else who has been reading and reviewing this story as well. I hope you enjoy this rather _twisted_ chapter. R&R.

Also, I have a new fic up on fictionpress, which, if you want details about, feel free to PM me :)

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Chapter 6:

Professor James Moriarty paced back and forth along the upper room, awaiting the arrival of Jack the Ripper. Everything had been set into its proper place, and by the end of the night, his plan would be achieved. Once he had this man on his side, there would be no stopping the criminal mastermind from bringing down his loathed enemy. Sitting down in a chair in front of the window, he continued to watch for the guest to arrive. A chuckle escaped his chest, enjoying the brilliance of his plan. Although he held Jack in a respectable manner, although he had never met the man, Moriarty knew that he would not see through the plan. Taking a sip of brandy, he continued to wait for the man of the hour to arrive.

* * *

Through the pub he usually attended, Jack learned of the location where he would find his next victim. A smile spread over his face as he paid for his drink, before heading towards the destination. The sun had fallen, given him the cover he was going to need. It had been far too long since he had committed his last murder, and he would enjoy this one. He would have many to pick from, if he had been informed correctly, which also meant he could have more than one. He needed his release. He needed another murder.

* * *

Moriarty watched as the small house began to fill up. He knew it would not be much longer until Jack showed. Grabbing his cloak, he slipped outside of the house, undetected. If he right, which he always was, he knew the exact location Jack would lead his victim. And Moriarty didn't want to be late to the show. If he was going to see if he had the right man, he had to be present for the murder. Another free laugh escaped him at the thought, as he quickened his pace to find the best view possible.

* * *

Jack waited in the shadows for the women to appear. So many were coming he would have his pick of the litter. One by one they walked in. He waited for the perfect one. He didn't have to wait long. As she passed his hiding place he stepped out and introduced himself as the host of the party. It didn't take much convincing to get the girl to follow him. He smiled as he led her to a secluded area nearby. She was a talker and that was good. She hadn't stopped babbling since they'd left the house.

She didn't seem to notice when he dropped his hand and stepped up behind her. She didn't see the deadly razor that slide out of his sleeve, ready to take her life's blood. Than all of the sudden a horrible laugh filled the area. Jack couldn't tell which direction it was coming from and like a corned animal he spun to find the source. The girl had finally become quite and when he turned back towards her he saw her eyes on the razor. He advanced towards her knowing that he could not let her get away when a booming voice filled the small area.

"Ah, Jack the Ripper. It's finally nice to meet you in person. I've been enjoying your handy work from afar." The voice was both mysterious as well as dark. From the sounds of it, it could have easily been some policemen, having finally caught up with him.

Jack griped the women in front of him and put the razor to her throat. "Come out and show yourself or the girl gets it. I know you're out there. Who are you the police?" He knew all too well that they would not risk an innocent life to get to him.

A rather disappointed grunt made it way to Jack's ears. "My dear boy do you think that the Yard could have come up with such an elaborate plan? No, I'm no police man I simply admire your work. As for the girl, well I would like to see your work first hand."

For once in his life Jack was surprised. Someone else who didn't care about human life? He looked into the twin pools of brown that stared back at him. He let his mind go to the dark place it always went when it was time to kill. His became a distorted mask of outrage as the knife bit home in the girl's juggler vein. Warmth hit his face and he released the girl's body. Clapping filled the small area. Jack, now having split blood, searched for the means of the sound. "Ah." The voice said. "You are exactly the man I was hoping to find."

Stepping away from the corpse, Jack spun around, trying to find the owner to the voice. Whoever this person was, they were cleverly hidden in the night. "Who are you?" He spat. Although he had been impressed by the man's reaction to the murder, he was starting to become annoyed as well.

A low chuckle filled the air. It came from everywhere. "Who am I?" The voice repeated the question. "Who is but a form following the question what and what I am is a man with a deal. You see there is a thorn lodged in both of our sides and its name is Sherlock Holmes. Help me to remove this thorn by accepting my plan, letting me guide you and when it's gone you can have free rein of London."

Jack paused. He had heard of Sherlock Holmes. He was London's best detective. If anyone could catch him it would be that man. "But what's in it for me?" Jack asked wary of voices that spoke from the darkness.

"My good man you will be able to touch the face of an angel." He smirked, leaning against the nearest tree. There was no response for several moments, as if Jack were trying to debate his options in the situation. Moriarty exhibited patience, only to be met by disappointment at the answer he was to receive.

Jack didn't like this anymore. This meeting was turning into nothing but common mind games coming from a man who used night as a shield for himself. "Come out and talk to me face to face or I leave now." He threatened. Moriarty, as much as it displeased him, listened to Jack the Ripper's order. His mind shuttered at the thought of continuing to take them. Had it not been for the fact that he truly needed the assistance of the Ripper, he would have allowed the man to walk away from the scene.

He stepped out of the shadows and into Jack's line of sight. "Here I am, the shadow that watches all. Now my dear boy, you will take my offer." A toothy smirk had come over the dark figures face while he continued in his stride towards Jack.

Faster than Moriarty's reflex Jack had his knife against the professor's throat. "Don't you call me dear boy." He growled into Moriarty ear. "Now tell me your name before I decide to start killing men."

Moriarty chuckled. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," he stated, looking down at his own hand, which held his pistol, was firmly placed against Jack's gut. Growling at the man before him, Jack took a step backwards. "I am Professor James Moriarty. Criminal mastermind," he stated, a smirk upon his face. Jack felt the steel pressed more firmly into his stomach. "Now my dear boy." Moriarty dragged the last two words out. Jack growled. "I know who you are Jack. I know what you're capable of. All I'm offering you is a chance to harness your talents and take out the only person who can stop us."

Again, Jack asked. "And what is there for me in this plan of yours?" he spat, the anger clear in his eyes. The anger that showed Moriarty into the man's heart. He had been right, as per usually. Jack was exactly what he needed.

"You sir will have free range of London by night. You see I need some murders to distract Holmes and your just the man for the job. You may kill whomever you wish so long as they cannot be traced back to us." Jack thought about. He increased pressure on the handle for a second and then removed the blade from the professor's throat.

"Well then." Jack stated. "Let us retire and talk about the details." He was beginning to put a great deal of effort into his decision. Perhaps it would be in his best interest to make an alliance with Professor Moriarty. If more details of the plan could be discussed, he would be able to make up his mind with far more ease, he reasoned, as they continued to walk.

Moriarty lead them to an off course pub, trying to think of a way to approach the other mission he had his mind set on Jack performing. While murders would distract Holmes from his plans, there was one thing and only one thing that would be able to rid them both of the thorn. And that was caging Holmes' precious bird. "My dear" a low growl stopped him short. "Sir. There is another detail that we must work out. Holmes has a beautiful bird that he loves. We need to take it from him."

Jack looked at him sideways. "A bird?" Why would this man call upon him for an animal? Clearly, this man had either been not paying enough attention to the newspaper's words on his talents, or he was just completely mad.

Moriarty smirked. "A woman my dear Sir, a woman. He is in love with her and to take him out of the game we must take the bird. Woman." His eyes threatened to roll at the mention of love. The professor had always held Holmes at higher expectations. Now that Holmes had surrendered to the emotions of the heart, Moriarty felt as if it were his duty to set the detective on the correct path once more.

Now Jack understood. He smirked. He loved it when women are involved. "So you wish me to kill this little bird?" It was his specialty. His talent, and if it was going to get the detective off of his back, it would be all the more entertaining.

Moriarty's face changed. It went from light humor to a dark mask so fast that Jack pulled up short. "She is not to be killed!" Jack was beginning not to like this anymore and had an instinct to just leave. But the face changed back and Jack wasn't sure he really had seen the darkness in his face at all. "You see Jack, I want to cripple him. Make her mine."

"If you want to make her your pet, rather than among the murdered, what do you want me to do for you?" Jack spat. He would never consider keeping any woman alive after they had been entertainment for the night. Women were weak creatures in his eyes, good for nothing more than being slain. Any attempt in altering his belief would be unexceptable.

Moriarty allowed him to vent. However, he knew that he would win him over. "You see I need your _special_ skills to extract her and make it appear as if she died." Jack grumbled. He didn't like the sound of this plan so far. "You see Jack in order for him to believe she is dead someone has to die. I would have one of my own men attempt this job, but they have already failed me once."

That's when it dawned on Jack. He would need a fresh kill to cover up the fact that she was alive. He would have his pick of the whole city to choose who he wanted. "I might be willing to consider your plan." Moriarty gave him a tight glare, wanting a direct answer. Jack stopped and looked Moriarty in the face. "I'll go along with you if you can promise that no one who works for you will interfere in my plans."

Moriarty looked at him, "Agreed." Both men shared a look, their eyes filled with the evil of their hearts. Moriarty knew in that moment that he had won. Now that the agreement had been made, nothing would be able to stop the inevitable. Get ready to lose her Holmes, he thought to himself. This time, the detective had no way to gain the uppperhand from the corners of chance. This pleased the professor. Sherlock Holmes had always been an enjoyable challenge, but with the ploy he had in mind, he prefered to be free of the pest.

Jack smirked. "Now, tell me more about this bird of Holmes'," he stated, downing yet another cup of wine. This time it was the professor's turn to smirk.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: **Well, I decided to give you all a little treat and make this chapter rather lengthy. Hope you all enjoy! 28 more reviews and we are at 200! Woohoo!

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Chapter 7:

Crimson blood had dried against once ivory skin. Tobias Gregson finished inspecting the newest scene of crime before heading towards his office. Pulling out his ink, he wrote a letter to Detective Sherlock Holmes. As suggested, which he rarely followed, he summoned the sleuth to come investigate the scene. Leaning back into his chair, he sent off one of his Yarder's with the letter. Hopefully, they would be able to clean up the mess before the press caught wind of the story. Had it not been due to the fact that one of his men had found the body, it would already be all over the papers. Pulling out a cigar, he awaited the response of the detective.

* * *

Sitting down comfortably, James Moriarty ran over each success of the night. Sherlock Holmes was exactly where he should be. Directly next to the set trap. Pulling out a scrap piece of paper from his desk, he scribbled yet another warning to the sleuth. "Jordan!" yelled the professor, summoning his brute into the room. Although he was still exacerbated with the failure, he had two tasks for the man that not even a complete imbecile could mess up. He wanted the newest message taken to the detective, as well as a view at the morning paper. Outstretching his hand, he handed Henry Jordan the note. "Take that to Baker Street. And bring me in _The Times._" With a nod of the head and a mock bow, Jordan followed the orders given to him.

In the room next to him, Jack the Ripper was waking up in an actual bed in a grand room. This deal with the professor was working for him, at least for the time being. Stretching, he began to walk around the sides of the room. Another murder would have to come soon. He didn't enjoy lazing about while there were worthless creatures he could be finishing off. Creatures designed for the sole purpose of being murdered under his hands. He heard the deep, dark voice of Moriarty bellowing some orders. When he heard _The Times_ mentioned, he began to wonder if the newest murder would have been reported yet.

Publicity was the last thing he wanted. Even with the plan the professor had devised, Jack would not surrender the thought of Detective Holmes discovering him. Better to be alert then resting in things that had not been set in stone, he reasoned. Continuing to circle the room, Jack began to become bored. Slipping out of his door, he began to head down a long corridor. However, his journey was stopped by none other than Professor Moriarty.

"Jack," Moriarty smirked, his hand clutching the newest paper. From the smile on the man's face, Jack guessed there had been no wind of the latest victim. Moriarty stopped in his stride as he reached Jack's side, his hand drawn out with the paper. The headlines said nothing of the murder. Taking the paper, his coal-black eyes skimmed over the pages. Nothing. This pleased him. "I have kept your presence out. Now, I have a task for you," he finished.

Jack didn't like the sound of this. He was receiving an order? He bit back a growl. Jack wasn't going to be ordered around like Moriarty ordered around his other men. "A _task_?" he spat, unable to control his anger anymore. He reached for his knife at the belt. "I am_ not_ here to be doing your dirty work, Moriarty," he added, keeping his hand on the hilt. He watched as the demon eyes turned from calm and collected to fiery pits of fury once more.

"You are to fulfill our agreement, Jack," Moriarty sneered. His voice was calm, but the mood in his eyes would strike fear into the devil. "I need Holmes' bird followed," he continued, managing to maintain his temper. Jack released a growl. This had not been a part of their compromise.

"And what makes you think I will do that for you? We agreed that I was to create a murder, not follow the bird around like I was her watch!" Jack snapped, annoyed. Once he had finished his statement, he regretted not following the order. The calm appearance that Moriarty had tried to keep vanished, as the fury in his eyes came over his entire stature.

"You will do it, Jack," Moriarty boomed, not impressed with the man's complete lack to disobey an order. "I employed you to get the bird. And that requires following her." Moriarty could see that there was fear beginning to be made into the Ripper, which pleased him. He went on to continue, "However, I am willing to give you one or two opportunities o only play with the bird. Scare her. Foreshadow to Holmes what is coming in the wind," he finished.

The fear that had began to drag itself out of Jack as he smirked at the proposition. He would willingly strike fear into her, and had several different ideas as to how to do so. He felt Moriarty tug the newspaper away as he walked back down the corridor and into his study. Jack walked in the opposite direction, looking for a door in the grand mansion. He would never understand how the professor's hiding place had failed to be found yet.

Finding the door, Jack started towards where he knew the detective would make his way to. The secluded area of the woods where he had left the latest of his murdered. Leaning against a tree, it was only then that he realized there was a small, folded piece of paper in his pocket. Pulling it out, his eyes skimmed over the photo. He recognized the man hiding his face to be Sherlock Holmes. The caption underneath read about his latest case, the woman having been saved due to the detective's work with the Scotland Yard. Renee Duncan. So this was the woman Sherlock Holmes had grown affection over. He flipped the picture over to find a note attached to it from the professor_. 'Do not fail me. M.'_

* * *

Had it not been due to the fact that it had been night fall when Holmes sent news of Renee's state to Diana, he would have expected the older sister to come in and put him through her wrath. Irene had stayed speaking with him, trying to relax the nerves that bounced inside of the sleuth. However, nothing helped. Renee had not opened her eyes once since he had gotten her to Baker Street, and despite Watson's reassurance that she would be fine, Holmes could not bring himself to believe it.

He saw the sun rise, bringing light to his eyes. It burned, but he didn't care. He stood and walked to the door, taking a grasp on the handle. He stood outside; debating as to if he should allow himself to see her in this state. It would only be more devastating to him, he reasoned. Yet, the door handle must have been rattling under his hand, for Watson called out. "Come in Holmes," he stated, in a calm but focused tone.

One step inside was enough for the detective. His eyes rolled onto the bed, where Watson stood, still looking over Renee. Her face and arms had a few bruises each while her head was wrapped in a wet cloth. He deduced that she had had a deep fever, but looking at her, it had faded. Her green eyes were still shut, which managed to strike fear into his core.

Unable to bear looking at Renee, Holmes got up and slowly walked out of the room. How had he allowed this to happen? One moment she was at his side, and the next she was screaming his name in fear. This was his fault. There was no denying the obvious, yet painful, fact. His hands hid his face, and the pain in his eyes. However, the guilt in his heart was beginning to consume him.

What if Moriarty was past the threat? He knew that it was more likely that his time for surrendering had passed. But what did that mean for Renee? He had to think of what was best for her. He had to rethink the threat. But he didn't want to think about it. He knew where it was going to lead. He didn't want to go there. He let out a sigh and pulled out the newest message. He read it. _'Seeing how you failed to keep your focus on me I must now teach you to take me seriously. Perhaps your bird will show you how just how serious I am. M.'_ He put the paper on the desk next to him. He had been over it so many times that his head was starting to kill him. What to do?

He knew what he had to do. The ring that had been burning a hole in his breast pocket would have to stay there. He couldn't endanger his love. But he could also ignore Moriarty give her the ring and protect her with his life. He would never allow anything like yesterday to happen again. But what was best for her? Should he hold off and risk losing her or give her the ring and risk Moriarty taking her from him forever. He hung his head.

He knew in his heart that he longed to be with her forever. But he had to think of her safety first. Was it worth the risk to let her know how he felt? A battle raged inside him and he didn't know which side he wanted to win. Her love or her safety? The two sides fought each other, each valid in their own ways. His heart was caught in the middle of this war and it was tearing it apart. He had to decide and soon.

He longed to slip the ring onto her finger, ask her to be his wife, make him the happiest man alive. But after today he realized that the world he lived in may not be the best for her. He didn't know what he would do if something ever happened to her. There would always be cases. There would always be danger. Could he really do that to her? He didn't know what he would do if something ever happened to her.

Watson informed him that she was waking up and Holmes decided that the best person to make the decision was Renee. He would ask if could live with the danger to be with him. His heart grew light as he made up his mind. He would honor whatever she decided.

Renee slowly came out of the fog. She tried to remember what had happened. She had been walking and then someone had called her name. It all came back and her eyes shot open trying to find the face of the man who held her heart. He was sitting on the bed next to her with a smile. She felt so safe in his presence that the horrors of before fled into the back of her mind. A smile spread across her face. She loved him and knew that he would keep her safe. He looked like he wanted to ask her a question. She put a hand on the side of his face and said, "Sherlock, I love you."

He took her hand into his and looked her in the eye. The words came out easily when it came to her. Any wish to conceal emotions vanished as he repeated the words."Renee, I love you too. But what I'm about to ask you, you have to promise me you will think it over before answering." She nodded. "I love you and will always love you; however I cannot ask you share my world without your consent. I live in world of danger, were people will always try to use whatever they can to gain an upper hand on me. Use people that I love. Especially you. But Renee, I wish to live out the rest of my days with you. Will you share in my world, the danger, the happiness, all of it? Will you be my wife?" He produced a small box and opened it so she could see the treasure hidden inside.

This was what she had been waiting for. "Yes. I will share your world Sherlock. I will marry you." With that tears of silent joy escaped both of their eyes.

Watson entered the room and eyed the two occupants; He took in the tear stained checks and feared the worse. He knew of Moriarty's threats, but always knew the sleuth was capable of working past them. But now looking at the scene, his friend had failed to realize it himself, and therefore ruined the best thing he had going on in his life. "Holmes, Renee what's going on?" Two beaming faces turned toward him and he knew before they even said anything that he was wrong. They were going to get married. He wondered if his face had looked anything like Holmes when he had told him.

"Watson my dear boy I have a very important question to ask you. Will you be my Best Man?" the words once again rolled off the detective's tongue. For that moment, the grave threat Moriarty had hung above Renee's head had disappeared from his mind. The fact that he had once repelled showing any emotions was out of his mind. Joy had overcome Sherlock Holmes, and he was enjoying the cause.

Slowly pulling Renee into his arms, he held her close, before extending a hand out to Watson. After shaking the doctor's hand, Holmes rewrapped both his arms around Renee, keeping her close, but gently. He could have stayed there forever, had it not been for a sudden knock at the door. "Come in," Watson stated, heading towards the door. In walked Irene Adler, ignoring the presence of Watson and walking straight to Holmes.

Reaching up her sleeve, Irene knew that she was interrupting a peaceful moment for her friend, yet knew it had to be done. "Holmes," she stated, grabbing his attention. Renee slowly turned in his arms, leaning against his chest while giving him an easier time to communicate. "There has been another murder," she finished, giving the letter from the inspector to Sherlock. Taking it, he read it, before nodding to Irene.

"Then we need to go and investigate," Sherlock stated strongly. Silently, he wished that his moment with Renee hadn't had to end, but he knew it would be able to continue. "Watson, stay here with Renee. Irene, come with me," he ordered. Renee managed to lie back into Holmes' bed, as she obeyed his instructions. Watson gave his partner a nod just before the door shut behind Irene and the detective.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: **Short chapter, but in my opinion, it felt finished. R&R.

Also, I've made a trailer for this fic, and the link will be on my profile. :)

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Chapter 8:

The carriage continued down the road. Sherlock's eyes were facing out one way, Irene's in another. She watched the streets and saw people passing by. A couple hand in hand caught her attention. She let out a sigh. For just a split second they turned into Sherlock and her. She let herself think about that image for a bit. Then she turned to Sherlock. "What is it like?" She asked. Sherlock turned to her with a puzzled look. "What does it feel like to find the person you want to spend the rest of your life with?" Her eyes searched his face. She really wanted to know.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts. He had never truly thought about it before. Yes, there was no denying that Renee was a whole other half to him. Everything that was sweet, kind, loving about him had come to be because of her. "It's like you've been missing something all your life but you didn't know until you found it. She is everything that I'm not. Sweet, loving, caring, and she always wants to help." Irene let out a sigh, which did not go unnoticed by Holmes.

"You know," Irene said, "There was a time when I believed that was you and me. But when I see the way you look at her I know I could never be to you what she has become." Holmes couldn't help but to give her a small smile. He had begun to deduce their history was what had sparked her question.

"I use to feel that way too." Sherlock responded without a pause. He wasn't going to lie, and even if he had tried to, she would have seen through it. "But I could never ask you to live a life with me. You love to travel and I love to solve crimes here with Watson. We only loved each other because we thought we would never find anyone else who would love us in return. But that's not true. There is a man out there that is willing to follow you to hell and back and when you find him you'll know that he was the one you have been waiting for."

Irene gave Holmes a small smile of gratitude. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps there was the one made for her was out there still. Sherlock, after all, had been able to find the person he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with. Before she had a chance to answer his question, however, they found the carriage having come to a complete halt. Opening the door, Holmes extended his hand to Irene, assisting her out before the two began to make their path towards a waiting Inspector Gregson. "Mr. Holmes," Gregson started, heading towards the sleuth. "Right this way sir," he stated, directing the way towards the scene of the crime.

The blood had managed to stain the grass underneath the body. Holmes knelt next to the victim, looking over any other injuries to her body. None. Nothing but the clear razor scar that ran across her neck. The very one that would have been the cause for her death. "When did you find the body?" Holmes questioned, standing up and facing Gregson.

"One of my men found it in the early hours of the morning," Gregson started, "Around six, if I am to be specific," he added. Holmes nodded, and he began to look around the area. There were muddy tracks, clearly from a male's pair of boots, headed from one direction, accompanied by the tips of women's shoes. He slowly began to follow them. Gregson and two of his Yarders followed shortly behind, while Irene managed to get to his side.

The tracks continued to lead until they reached gravel in front of a house. A house that looked vacant on a daily basis, but one that had been used the previous night. The front doors and windows had been boarded up, as if the person who had been using the house wanted to leave no trails. Holmes stepped towards the main door and began to attempt to pull the wooden block off of it. The Yarders came to assist, and in a matter of moments, they were able to make a small entrance way. Holmes stepped inside, and looked at his surroundings.

A party had occurred in this house. Smashed glass and the scent of different alcohols gave the hint to Holmes. One that had attracted the very women Jack the Ripper slaughtered. He picked a small piece of clothing off of the ground, one that had clearly been ripped off a dress. There was more than one man here. This party, if it had been a party at all, had been designed to attract Jack to the scene. But for what reason? Why would a person have a need to call upon the newest serial murder in London? Stepping back outside the house, he began to walk around the area. What he found in the back of the house interested him the most.

A pair of footprints leading from the house into the woods. He began to follow the footsteps. Where had this person been going, he wondered, as he continued to follow them. When the tracks stopped, he found his answer. From under the tree, where he now stood, there was a clear view at the body the Ripper had killed the night before. Whoever had wanted to call about Jack the Ripper wanted to test his talents. Walking out to the scene once more, Holmes saw two sets of foot imprints leaving the scene. Clearly, there had been a partnership made, or in the makings, when the two men had left the area. But who would use these means to get a villain under his wings?

The answer came into his mind as easily as the breath he though it under. He didn't need to question the who anymore, but they why. Why would Professor James Moriarty be making a partnership with Jack the Ripper? Pausing all thought for the moment, the answer came to him, or what he deduced to be the reason. Moriarty would never call upon the assistance of another man if he didn't have a set purpose in mind. And, although he was unsure of the professor's clear motive, there was a reason why the criminal mastermind wanted his attentions focused. Since Jack was known for killing women, Moriarty would give him the task of. Holmes cut off his train of thought as a pit grew in his stomach. He needed to return to Baker Street.

Unbeknownst to Holmes, Jack the Ripper continued to watch his every movement. This Renee of his had not matched the woman he had seen in the supplied photo. However, it appeared to him that the detective had been able to make some sort of connection. He continued to watch as Holmes and the woman he had entered the area with quickly departed. His curiosity got the better of him, and he made his own journey to the famous house on Baker Street. Using a shorter passage way, he was able to make the way quicker than the detective.

Standing across the street in a closed alley way, Jack watched the house closely. It seemed to be empty of all life. No motions came from inside of it. Nonetheless, he continued to watch the door. He was not to be disappointed. The door opened, and out walked Holmes' bird. At first, he was awestricken with her beauty. The photo had done her no justice. She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he had ever set his demon eyes upon. She headed down the street, with somewhat of a struggle. However, there was a stubborn fire inside of her, as she continued down the street. Without wasting another moment, Jack tore down the streets after her. Continuing to watch her steps, he began to think that capturing her would be easier than he had thought it to be. She appeared to be ready to crash onto the ground, unconscious. Snickering, he watched as she grabbed onto a tree, trying to keep herself from falling. Just a few more moments, and he would have fulfilled his task.

However, out of nowhere came none other than Detective Sherlock Holmes. As if he had been expecting her to leave the house, he flew to her aid, hoisting her up in his hold. Jack growled, before diving into the center of a crowd headed towards Sherlock Holmes. He attempted to listen to any conversation that would be sparked between the sleuth and the girl, but nothing came. Sneering, he began to make his way back to Moriarty's head quarters.

Sherlock slid his arm under Renee's, aiding her back towards Baker Street. Irene had gotten back inside of another coach, following Holmes' orders in going to get Renee's older sister. Holmes managed to get her up the stairs and back into his bed before she fell to the darkness once more. Letting out a sigh of relief, he tried to keep out any negative thoughts. Instead, he began to focus his energy on how he was going to protect Renee. On how he was going to bring down Jack the Ripper, while also finding out just what James Moriarty was planning.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN:** Thank you so very much for all of these wonderful reviews. Please keep them coming and I will continue with your updates. However, I am going out of town next week, but nonetheless, I will attempt at my best to continue these updates while I am away from my laptop.

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Chapter 9:

Moriarty was pacing, waiting for any news from either Jack or Jordan. It was time for the bird to be brought to him. The sooner the better, he thought to himself, as he often did. Jordan returned to the room, a prideful smirk on his face. Moriarty ignored him, deciding he would wait to see what news the Ripper would bring him first. However, when Jack slipped into the room, he was empty handed. "Where is she?" Moriarty roared

"Holmes got in the way," Jack grumbled, taking a seat across from where the dark professor stood. He watched as a dark shadow began to grow over Moriarty. He saw the scowl and the fires of hell form in his eyes once more. Once again, Jack was reminded of the fact that there was more to the man he now worked with then what met the eye.

Jordan's eyes, however, danced with mischief. "So Jack didn't bring her but I brought you a juicy bit of information. The bird and the Hawk have started to circle." Moriarty looked at him with all the fury of hell. "They're engaged!" Jordan smirked, expecting Moriarty to give him some acknowledgement over the failure the Ripper had brought.

Moriarty sat down and started to think. Jack had failed him, while Jordan had brought him the news he did not wish to hear. The man never seemed to get phased. He would have to try and change that. The silence was broken by a voice so thin and tight with fury that Jack, who thought himself a brave man, took a step back from the creature who had spoken. "This is how he wishes to play with me? He must learn his manners. Jack you shall drop him a new note that this is my game and you shall play by my rules!" With that he swept toward the desk and ripped off a piece of paper. He scribbled something on it than turned his fury to Jack. "Take this to his house and slip it under his door." Jack's fear left him at being treated like a common servant.

"How dare you order me in such a manner!" Jack roared. He knew he had stepped over the line. In the professor's eyes he saw a lion coming in for the kill. He stood up, taking a minor step backwards towards the door.

"You failed me once today Jack. Do it again and I will be forced to terminate our partnership," the professor stated, wiping out his revolver. "In a way that sends you into the Thames." Jack scowled once more. Just as Jack aimed to walk out of the room, Moriarty was sparked with a sudden idea. "Stay here, my dear boy," Moriarty started, grabbing his cloak. I must have a word with Sherlock Holmes myself," he finished before walking out of the door without another word. Jack and Jordan just watched as he disappeared from the room, trying to make a small hint of sense from the professor's actions.

* * *

After seeing Renee safely to Baker Street, Holmes snuck downstairs to have a small smoke while he awaited the arrival of Diana and Irene. There was more on his mind then he was beginning to be able to handle. There had been no clues as to what Moriarty was planning, or at least none that Sherlock had been able to pick up on. However, he was beginning to determine that, whatever Moriarty had planned, was going to be bigger than anything he had caused before. But what, Holmes thought deeply to himself.

Finding him out of cocaine, Holmes jumped off of the sofa and headed up the stairs. He was deep in thought when he came into his study and didn't see the dark shape of Moriarty sitting in the corner. His mind was too busy thinking of Renee. As if reading his mind the air filled with Moriarty's silky sweet voice took over the room. "Ah, your minding is wondering old friend. Could it be that the bird that has put a rift between us has caught you in the earthly beauty?" Holmes paused when he heard that voice. He knew it all too well.

Sherlock spun on heels to face his foe. "What I think is none of your business. As for being your friend, I will be your executioner and nothing else." Moriarty let the silence hang heavy for a few moments. Until broke it with a jagged laugh that cut through the silence like a knife through butter. Holmes clamped his hands into fists to keep from hitting the man before him. This was not going to be a pleasant encounter.

"Come, come my dear boy. Let us talk civilized. I would hate for something to happen to a bird as pretty as her," he chuckled, turning to face Holmes at last. Holmes froze. He could feel his temper beginning to boil, but managed to downplay it. However, he did not take likely to his Renee being threatened.

As if Moriarty could continue to read the detective's thoughts, he let out a small laugh as he walked closer to the sleuth. This time, he was going to make him understand exactly what he meant, at no matter what costs. Stopping directly in front of his foe's face, taking on the face of the devil before he spoke.

"Let me inform you of some things. Recently your girl has been seen with a ring that doesn't belong on her hand. You really wish to tempt me? Fine. I shall unleash my full fury. Just remember when you find her broken body that you brought this on yourself. Let the games begin!" Holmes watched as the professor turned up to leave, but all he saw in his eyes was red. Swinging a punch, his fist collided with Moriarty's face. The professor stopped, awe struck for a moment at the detective. "My dear boy, what has you so worked up? Afraid I'd set her from your cage?"

"You would just put her in a smaller once," Holmes spat. Moriarty gave a smirk, much to the detective's annoyance. Turning towards the door once more, Moriarty continued to keep his thoughts to himself, knowing that any plot he could think up in his brilliance would be better than a battle of words with his enemy. Just as he was about to pull the door open, the other side opened it. He smirked down at what he saw. She froze as he looked down at her. Moriarty let out a chuckle, knowing Holmes had not yet seen his bird in the study.

Moriarty whipped his hand down to his belt, pulling out his revolver. Pushing Renee against him, he put the small gun to her temple, turning to face Sherlock Holmes once more. "So you admit you keep her caged?" he laughed, as he felt the small prize sink in his arms. He looked into her forest eyes and saw nothing but fear and disbelief. "Why don't you tell your little bird what you've just told me?" he asked. This made Holmes turn around to face the professor.

A low growl threatened to make its way out of Sherlock. However, from the evil glint in Moriarty's eyes, he knew he was going to have to repeat himself. His eyes glued down onto Renee, who was, both frozen in fear and she appeared to be ready to fall unconscious. "You wouldn't set her free," he spat, much to Moriarty's pleasure, "you'd only put her in a smaller cage." He watched as Renee's head hung, as she slipped onto the ground at Moriarty's feet. The professor laughed, as he made his way out of the room.

Once Moriarty had left the area, Holmes rushed to Renee's side. Gently pulling her up into his arms, he walked over to his chair and held her gently. Renee lied limp in his arms the stress of the moment having taken away her strength. Sherlock held her with all the care of a man holding the most precious thing. But things didn't stay calm for long. Her eyes started to roll around under her closed eyes. Her limbs start to twitch and Holmes had to remove himself to keep from getting hit. As gently as he could, he grasped her gently and shook her till her eyes opened up. "Renee?" he asked her. Without any response, her arms went around his neck, pulling him closer to him.

Renee's eye's slowly opened. Sherlock's face came into focus and she couldn't help the tears that welled in her eyes. This hurt Sherlock more than a physical pain ever could. He held her tight and in a soothing voice began to explain. "Renee." He began slowly. "I never meant what I said to Moriarty. I was angry and logic left me for the first time in my life. I would never do anything to hurt you much less cage you If you don't wish to marry me I understand. I would confine you. But if you don't believe me than please understand that I had to say what I did. He would have hurt you."

Tears formed in Sherlock's eyes at the thought of losing her. Renee, seeing the truth in his eyes reached up and cupped his face in her hands. "Sherlock I would never leave you. I understand that what you said was in the heat of the moment but all the recent talk of bird's and cages has left me a little worse for wear. I know you never confine me." With that she gently planted a kiss on his soft lips. "But," she whispered, "There is something I must tell you."

"Renee?" he asked, puzzled. What could she possibly have to tell him? He felt her slowly draw into him, her body shaking. Fear, he deduced. Nightmares, he realized. It was why she had woken up in such a fright. He cursed himself for have misses such an obvious fact before. "Nightmares," he whispered, without her needing to do so. "What is haunting you?" He asked, trying to comfort her. He had never been able to do so before, but he needed to help his Renee.

"Everything," she whispered quietly into his shoulder, feeling the tears return to her eyes. Sherlock felt his shirt slowly begin to soak in each and every one of her tears. "Everything…Weese put me through," she added, in the same hushed tone she had begun speaking with. "They haven't stopped since the day I left the hospital," she whispered. Her shaking never seemed to cease as Holmes gently found her locks of raven hair. "I'm sorry," she added, unable to keep her apology. She knew she needed to tell him, but she also knew that he needed to focus on his case.

Making her look him in the eyes, Sherlock gently wiped away her stray tears. He didn't care if he was acting out of character anymore. All that mattered was making Renee feel better. Pushing away the person he used to be, he tried to put his mind into acting like Watson would. Taking a deep breath, he spoke. "Renee, there is nothing to be sorry for, " he started, taking both of her hands in his. "I am glad you have decided to tell me this." He added, causing her to look taken back.

"I just…didn't want to distract you…from your case…" she whispered. Holmes removed one of his hands and placed it on her cheek. Renee leaned into his hand, feeling comfort. "And Moriarty…he scares me Holmes," she whispered.

"Renee, you are my fiancée," he whispered, trying to keep her comforted. "As your husband to be, you are my first priority. Please do not ever forget that," he finished, picking her up and heading to take her to lie back down in bed. "I understand that Moriarty would scare you," he started, as he placed her under one of the blankets. "However, I will not allow him to do anything to you."

Renee just nodded, as she took a firm hold on Holmes' hand. They just stayed there, comforting the other's worst fears. Renee began to feel her body losing its energy once more. Slowly, she allowed her eyes to blink shut as she drifted off to sleep, filled with peace at the fact that her beloved Sherlock would not leave her on her own.

Holmes continued to stroke her hair, and was debating allowing his body to drift off into his own sleep. However, just as he laid his head down on the bed next to Renee, his eyes closing, the door swung in. His head popped up and faced to turn Irene Adler. "Holmes," Irene rushed out, heading towards his side. Taking in her appearance, he realized the dirt clumps on her body, a couple of fresh scars, and a wound on her arm. Either Irene had been attacked alone, or she had been attacked alongside Diana. However, what he was about to be told would be a shock to him, but an even deeper wound to the hearts of Watson and Renee.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: **Another short chapter, I know :(. And it'll most likely be the last update until July 9th, as I am going out of town. But while I am away I will write lots and lots so you guys will have several updates headed your way. Only 39 more reviews til 300 :D. R&R

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Chapter 10:

Irene stood outside Holmes' bedroom for a few moments, debating in her mind as to what to do. . She had a terrible secret to tell and she didn't know how to do it. They had been attacked on the way over here, and Diana hadn't made it. She had to break the news to the group but she didn't know how. It would be best if they were all together so they could support each other. She would leave out the details to spare their feelings. Watson was going to come apart at the seams and so would Renee. She just hoped Sherlock could be strong enough for the both of them. Sighing, she opened the door, to find Sherlock holding a peacefully sleeping Renee.

Letting Renee back onto the bed, Sherlock rushed over to her side and shouted to Watson. The doctor rushed up the stairs, and helped Holmes move Irene to a chair. It was only then that Sherlock noticed the sadness and fear in her deep eyes. "Irene, what's wrong?"

The tears had slipped out of her eyes and were making silent tracks down her cheeks. "Holmes, on the way over here, something terrible happened." She whispered under her breath, avoiding making eye contact with the doctor. She gestured to Renee. "She needs to be awake to hear this, Sherlock," she added, just as quietly.

Letting Holmes stay at Irene Adler's side, Watson stepped over to the detective's bed, and gently awoke Renee. Helping her to sit up, the three awaited what Irene was going to say to them. "I went to find Diana, just as you had told me to do, Holmes. When I arrived, she wasn't there. So I headed to go back to Baker Street. But I didn't get too far when I smelt smoke. Diana had been attacked by some of Moriarty's men. She, she didn't make it." The room fell silent as the last words died from her lips.

It took a second for it to sink in. Watson was the first to react. He screamed, all his rage and hurt poured out in that one unhindered minute. He screamed as if that would make it go away, make her come walking through the door to tell him it was a joke. But it didn't happen and all of them felt what he was feeling down to their very cores. Sherlock rushed to Renee's side, pulling her off of the bed and into his arms. He lowered gently onto his lap, allowing her to turn in his arms while the tears rolled out. Watson fell onto the couch limp as a rag doll. All his feelings in that on out pouring had lifted him a shell. He just sat on the ground, rocking himself.

Sherlock rocked his distraught fiancée in his arms, listening for her breathing to begin evening out: she had barely had strength before the news, but Holmes had another reason for wanting his beauty to sleep. His earlier conversation with Moriarty had got him thinking. There was no reason for him to target Diana, which left him two lines of enquiry and an uneasy conclusion: Moriarty knew Bakers Street was where Renee now resided, her own residence having been raised to the ground.

Hearing her breathing finally even out and her body relax into his hold, he began thinking of a way out. She needed to be kept safe, she was his priority now. Glancing over to check on Watson who was still choosing to suffer in tragic silence, who he knew was oblivious to the rest of them. He sighed deeply, longing for a pull on his pipe to help clear his heavy mind. The reality of Moriarty and how serious his threat was had finally registered in the detective's foggy mind. He had even come to realize the fact that it was more than a threat. It was a promise. One that James Moriarty would keep, much to Sherlock's regret

He kept his eyes on Watson for a few more moments. He tried to image just what his friend was feeling. Normally, the idea of such emotions would be far from his mind, but now was a different story. He could feel what his friend was going through, because of the fear he had been feeling. His black eyes glanced away from the doctor and back to Renee. He wasn't sure if he was going to be able to take care of her or not anymore. Moriarty now had the upper hand in Diana Duncan's death, as Watson would be emotionally unable to aid him in the case; at least for the next couple of weeks. Renee would also have a hard time getting through her loss. Perhaps he could leave her with Watson. The two would need each other and would understand how the other was feeling. And he knew that John wouldn't let any harm come to his beloved.

In his mind, it was settled. Renee and Watson would stay in Baker Street, while he and Irene continued to work out the case. And he would make sure their loss would be avenged. He would bring Moriarty to justice once and for all. Moving onto the opposite side of the bed, he laid next to his Renee, holding her trembling body while she attempted to continue in the effort to sleep. Pulling her head onto his chest, he gently stroked her hair, while whispering into her ear. He felt her relax, if only slightly, when he promised that he was there, and that things would end up being alright.

His eyes glanced over at his friend, who had passed out from the raging emotions. They continued to flicker around the room and finally settled on Irene, who was sitting in a corner by herself. Her eyes traveled up to his, regret in her eyes. He returned the look with one that told her that this hadn't been her fault. He could tell that she was still stumbling over having to be the barrier of the news. She nodded simply in return, before getting up and walking out of the room.

* * *

James Moriarty sat in his chair, having dismissed both Jordan and Jack the Ripper from the room. Before he had left for his meeting with Holmes, he had made his first mistake in the game. However, this turned to be his advantage. Not only did he now know that the birdie would be residing in 221B Baker Street, he also knew that the doctor would no longer be participating in their little chess game. A sick, twisted grin spread over his face at the thought. Another thought filled his mind, and the sick grin only grew. A small, dark chuckle filled the room as he allowed his mind to ponder the idea. The cards were in his hands. And the lineup was almost complete.


	11. Chapter 11

**AN**: Well, I am sorry I have been unable to update lately. But I am finally home, at least until the 17th and then I will be leaving again until the 23rd. But after that, I have no other long periods of time that I will go without being able to update :D. However, there isn't much more left to this story, _**BUT **_there is still one more left in the series! R&R :)

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Chapter 11:

Sherlock followed Watson and Renee out of Baker Street and into the early morning sun. It had been four days since Diana had been murdered, and they were headed off to the set funeral. Neither had said much in the four days, moved much, but rather stayed locked in grief. Not knowing what to do, Holmes had stuck around, waiting for any sign of movement from Moriarty that he could work with. Nothing turned up. He had examined everything he could concern Diana's death. Again, nothing.

The trip to the funeral grounds was filled with silence, not that the sleuth hadn't become adapted to it. Irene had stayed behind, and Holmes understood all too well why she had done so. He walked slower behind Watson and Renee, letting his mind wonder over his current case, rather than the appointment in front of him. He watched as Watson left Renee's side and sat down in one of the rows, his head hanging down low. A girl, only slightly taller than Renee, with a strong Irish complexion, wrapped her arm around Renee's shoulders, her lips moving. Holmes deduced that they would be words of comfort, what else would they be?

Walking up to his love's free side, he watched as the girl let go of her grip, and looked him up and down. Renee found the strength to use her voice. "Sherlock, this is my cousin, Elizabeth. Bess, this is-"Renee's voice started to fade, obviously weak from lack of use.

"I am Sherlock Holmes," he stated, deciding not to add any other details as to who he was in relation to Renee. Bess just nodded. Holmes took a light grip on Renee's hand, slowly pulling her into the row of seats that Watson sat down in. Sitting in the middle of his partner and his fiancée, Holmes sat in silence. His black eyes watched as Renee's cousin sat down next to her, taking her free hand and continuing to attempt to comfort her. But it was to no success, as Holmes knew all too well that it would result.

Holmes took his hand out of Renee's, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, not knowing what else to do. He had never been good at these types of things. Emotions were always where Watson excelled over him. But now his friend and the love of his life were the ones who needed the comfort, and the detective failed to be able to produce it.

The funeral started, and the small whispers that had been going on ended. It flowed quickly and smoothly, until eyes began to flicker onto Renee. Sherlock knew that she was not going to be able to say any words on behalf of her sister, and neither would Watson. He felt her tremble against his body, obviously able to feel the eyes staring down on her for not having gotten up yet. Unsure as to why he did, Holmes stood up and walked forwards, summoning his voice and keeping his eyes glued on Renee and Watson.

"Diana Duncan was a strong woman, a good friend," Holmes started, trying to speak as if he were Watson and Renee. "She will be truly missed," he forced out, biting his tongue as a faint hope popped into his mind, the hope that he wasn't sounding as if all of this was being forced off of his tongue. His mind couldn't think of any other words to say on her behalf, and he stepped down, heading back to his seat. Watson just stared at his partner as he returned, but Renee gave him a small smile of gratitude.

Several other family members of Renee's got up and said a few words of their own before the coffin was entered into the ground. Renee buried her face in to Holmes' black shirt, filling it with her tears as the reality of the funeral took its toll on her mind. She was alone now. Father, mother, sister, all dead. All that was left for her now was Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson. No immediate blood family. A shudder ran down her body.

She began to slip down, unable to keep herself up anymore. Holmes' arms caught her before she could fall to her knees, keeping her up on her feet and against his chest. His eyes looked down at the broken soul in his arms. They closed tightly. He would avenge the death of Diana for her. Looking up into the distance, Holmes saw a shadow leaning up against a tree in the distance. When the figure noticed the detective had spotted him, he fled from the scene. Holmes tensed. One of Moriarty's men.

"Watson," Holmes said, lowly, slowly aiming to put Renee into his arms. "Take her back to Baker Street," he stated, before taking after the figure. Watson grabbed Renee before she fell to the ground, dazed from how quickly Sherlock had taken off. Bess came up next to her cousin and the doctor, putting a supportive hand on Renee's shoulder.

Holmes continued to follow the figure down into the woods, but the man in pursuit managed to stay a good distance away from him. No matter how fast Sherlock attempted to run. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him but the man just ahead of him seemed to be getting further away. The man's stride was long and while Holmes was short. He tired to lengthen his stride but the man was like a cat. He slipped in out of the trees with no effort at all. Holmes was starting to slow, pulling in deep lung full of air while the man ahead of him didn't seem to even be breathing hard.

The man broke left and slipped out of sight. Holmes round the tree he had just seen him disappear behind when a solid fist hit his chest. He lay dazed on the forest floor as the man slipped a blade out from under his sleeve.

He stepped towards Holmes with death in his eyes but Holmes rolled over and sprang to his feet. He took up a defensive stance as the man with the blade advanced. "Oh Sherlock," the man taunted. "You couldn't protect her sister what makes you think you can keep the bird safe."

Holmes dropped his guard just for a second as the words hit home. Images of Renee's lifeless body flashed before his eyes. He came back to himself as the man lunged. He wiped to the right but the edge got him and opened a wound on his left side. It was long and would need stitches but he would live.

Anger boiled up inside the detective. He lunged toward the man and to disarm him. Instead they fell in a mess of limbs and steel to the unforgiving forest floor. Holmes was still out of breath and a hit to his stomach robbed him of what air he had left. The man brought the knife down in a killing arch but Sherlock rolled aside and the knife stuck in the ground. He kicked out at the man's face and hit. He fell backward without his knife.

The man recoiled and smiled. Sherlock tried to get up but a kick to his wound sent him back to the forest floor seeing stars. "Do you know what I'm going to do with your bird once I get her?" He taunted. "Or rather, would you like to know what I am going to do with her when I am done with her?" He laughed as he watched the weak, bleeding detective attempt to get off of the ground once again. "I am going to use her pretty little body to perfect my skills with the knife. She will provide the best entertainment I have had, Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock grabbed the discarded knife and stood up seeing red. However, the man saw him do so, and took this as his moment to take off into the distance. Holmes threw the knife, but the wound had begun to take its toll on him. Slowly, he began to limp back to Watson and Renee, silent vows beginning to form inside of his head once again. He had grown tired of Moriarty's games, and refused to let Renee be in the middle of them.

Managing to get back to the two he had left behind, Holmes watched as both Renee and Watsons' faces filled with terror at his blood stained shirt. Stepping away from Watson, Renee allowed the doctor to give the detective the aid he needed to continue to be able to stand. His medical mind set into play, and Watson began to process the steps necessary in order to fix Holmes' wound. "Quickly," he said to Renee, "we need to get him back to Baker Street."

Renee nodded, but Holmes, however, did not agree. "Moriarty knows that is where she would be," he whispered to his friend, trying to keep his beloved from over hearing. "She is the priority for the time being," he added strong, his eyes searching for Renee. Instead, however, they hit Bess. "Renee, go with your cousin," Holmes ordered, his mind deducing. While the man Moriarty had sent may have seen Bess hug Renee, Sherlock knew all too well that the thought of Renee returning to her cousin's location rather than Baker Street would have crossed the man's mind. And so, it was settled.

"W…Watson," Renee struggled, finding her voice as Bess came to support her trembling form, "Please, take care of him," she finished in a whisper, to be met with a nod. She could tell that the doctor state of mind had overcome her friend, for she knew the grief inside of him. Bess took Renee's hand, helped her into a cart, and gave the driver the address of her hotel. Silently, Renee prayed that she would be back at Holmes' side sooner, rather than later.

* * *

Meanwhile, Jack had managed to get back to Moriarty's den, impressed with his mission for the day. However, he was not enjoying the continuation of following Professor James Moriarty's rules. He was going to make sure that this changed, he decided, headed firmly and slowly to the room where he knew the professor would be. Opening the door slightly, he watched the scene in front of him for a few moments, before he would enter the dim light room.

Moriarty was playing chess when Jack entered the room. Jack tried not to make a sound; he wanted to see if he could sneak up on Moriarty. He slipped up behind him. Moriarty's head snapped around and looked Jack right in the eyes. The man seemed to have eyes in the back of head. All of hell lay behind those eyes. He stood there transfixed. He allowed fear to creep up into his heart. He tried to get a hold of himself.

The fire died down in Moriarty's eyes and Jack found the courage to speak. "Renee is still with the hawk. Though the bird and his friend are thinking only of the death of the sparrow Holmes thinks only of stopping you." Jack stopped and allowed the words to sink in. The professor seemed to be lost in deep thinking, not giving Jack a response for several minutes.

Moriarty let his eyes drift over the room as he thought of what to do. "Well, I believe it is time to move the plot up a bit. Jack I believe that you should relieve the hawk of his bird." Jack stood back and allowed the rage that felt boil to the surface.

"I'm tired of doing your dirty work. You promised me free run when you enlisted my help, but all I've done is play your errand boy. Enough of this! I will not play your games anymore! I will take this 'bird' and do whatever I want with her!"

Moriarty turned slowly to face Jack. The fire was back tenfold and Jack couldn't help but recoil back in terror. "You try my patience at every turn Jack. I have been more than patience with you. But if you want to do this than I will do everything in my power to stop you and you shall know what it feels like to have all the hounds of hell on your heels."

Ice forced itself into Jack's as he shrank back into himself. Moriarty stood and advanced on Jack. "What I meant was that I would be glad to get the bird." Moriarty smirked at the clear hold he had over the other man. Pushing out his chair, he sat down back at his game, focusing his attentions on winning. Jack slowly slipped out of the room, unable to stay around the devilish man for a moment longer. How this man always managed to get a tight grip over him, Jack didn't know. But he was not a fool, and therefore, he would do as he was commanded.

* * *

Watson worked to stitch up Holmes' wound, along with the help of Irene Adler. In a short time, the two had been able to patch up the wounded sleuth. Forcing him to rest, Watson sat by the fire, thinking of the woman he had lost.

Holmes lay in his bed, thinking of Renee, and what else Moriarty was planning. He knew deducing this would have to become one of his high priorities if he wished to keep Renee safe. He laid further into his bed, trying to get comfortable. He decided he would lie down for only a few moments longer, and then head off to see Renee. However, he did not expect a darkness to overcome his body, forcing him into a longer rest than he had originally anticipated.


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: **Sorry this chapter took so long! And I am leaving tomorrow til the 23rd for a youth girl's camp! But I will try to write a chapter or two(with an extra long chapter for you guys since it'll be my birthday on the 22nd) for you guys. R&R please!

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Chapter 12:

Jack sat in the study waiting for Moriarty. While he sat his mind started to wander. His thoughts where always turned back toward Renee. Her face hunted him through the darkest corners of his mind. He finally allowed himself to think about mind went to dark places taking her with it. Maybe he should follow his desires and take Renee for himself. His darkest dreams were within his reach all he had to do was take her for himself. But how?

Moriarty would surly kill him if he took her. But he was a killer and if Moriarty got in his way his blood would just be added to the growing pool that followed him. He allowed himself to dream, and in this waking dream he was the lord and king of his domain. No more being his dog. No more being the low man on the food chain. He would rule his own gang and the first thing he would do was take Renee as his own.

So deep in his thoughts was he that the sound of the door opening escaped his ears. Moriarty was almost upon him before Jack locked noticed him. Quickly he shoved his thoughts to the side and put on the mask that had started wearing around Moriarty. Moriarty saw the change in his face and took note. "Jack, my dear boy." He began, knowing how much he hated to be called dear boy. "I believe it is time to step up our game." No emotion passed across Jack's face only his eyes betrayed him. Moriarty saw a spark behind those eyes. Moriarty felt unease start to creep in.

"It is time." Moriarty said, not letting Jack know what he saw. "The bird shall now be ours." Jack stared through him. "Yes my lord." Jack replied. This not the Jack he had grown to know. The man he was talking to was his lackey. Not the man with a mind of his own hell bent on doing everything he could to upset him. Jack rose and turned his back on him. Jack allowed the mask to fall and a smile marred him wicked face. He allowed himself to feel a small amount of happiness. Moriarty's voice stole that from him. "There has been a change of plan Jack."

Jack slid the mask back on and turned around. "I will be coming with you." The mask failed him for a second but it was all Moriarty needed to know that he had been planning something. He knew now that he was going to take Renee as his own. He allowed a smile to come to lips. The spark in Jack's eyes became a fire and the mask slipped off. "I do not need your help!" He all but bellowed.

Moriarty's face turned dark. "I know what you are planning. The bird is to be for my uses and mine alone," he stated, with a dark glint in his eyes. He kept his eyes locked with Jack's, before he spun out of the room, heading to prepare to cage Holmes' precious bird. He let out a deep chuckle as he walked away from the room, wondering how the Ripper would be responding to the news.

Jack waited for the door to shut and for Moriarty's footsteps to drown out before throwing his chair to the ground. He would still get what he wanted. He would get to enjoy the beautiful bird, no matter what he had to do. Growling, he walked out, waiting for the professor to be ready to leave to fulfill the task at hand.

* * *

The dim sunlight bled through Sherlock's eyelids turning his world to a bloody red. For a second he saw Renee lying in a pool of crimson liquid. His eyes snapped open but the image was slow to leave his eyes. His side ached and for a second he was lost as to why it was hurting. It all came back to him when he turned to glance at the wound. He had to find the man that had did this. He realized he had slept through the night and the next day. Hurriedly, he threw the blanket he had covering him off, rushing out of his room. He had to get to his work.

He gently sat up and glanced at the window only to do a double take as he realized how late he had slept. His side screamed at him as he bolted out of bed to find Renee. The only thing he found was Watson as he round the corner into his room. Holmes pulled up short to avoid hitting his friend. Watson had his hands extended to stop him and the look in his eyes told him he was in trouble. "What are you doing running around with your side in the shape it is in?" Holmes shifted from foot to foot eager to get past the guardian to find his love.

"Holmes," Watson said, trying to get his friend's attention. He gave a hard glare when he saw that Holmes was going to act in nothing less than a stubborn manner. That did not sit well with the doctor. Holmes and Watson continued to glare at each other, as Holmes tried to push past his friend. He had to do everything in his power to get her safe. And that meant finding the man who had stabbed him.

He would remain uneasy until he had been able to make sure nothing had happened to her. He knew Moriarty's ways too well. The twisted professor was not going to rest until he had taken away his Renee, and Holmes refused to let that happen.

Sherlock looked for a quick way to slip past his friend. Sensing what he was up to Watson blocked the doorway with his body. With nowhere to go Holmes tired to push against Watson. He was too weak to move his friend but he didn't give up. He kept up the pressure till Watson pushed him backwards towards his bed. "You need to be resting Holmes."

Holmes tried to slip passed him on his weak side but Watson shot out an arm to stop him and ended up hitting his wound. Sherlock sunk to knees as stars danced before his eyes. When he finally came back to himself Watson was kneeling before him. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Watson kept repeating.

Holmes looked him in the eyes and started to explain." I need to find the man that did this to me. He was one of Moriarty's men. I know that they are going to go after Renee. I have to protect her." Concern filled Watson's eyes. Holmes could see the conflict going on behind his eyes. He wanted Holmes to rest and get better. However Watson also knew that his friend would not be able to peacefully rest until he caught the man and had made sure Renee was safe.

In the end he knew he had to let Holmes go. He helped the injured man to his feet and helped him towards the door. He saw Moriarty's death in Holmes' eyes. Watching Holmes disappear down the street, the doctor shut the door, heading to make himself a cup of tea. However, before he could, the door was knocked on. Opening it, Watson found Renee, looking at the doctor with a small amount of disappointment. However, he understood that she would have wanted to find Holmes in his place for several different reasons.

"He just left," Watson stated, opening the door wider to her. She stepped inside anyway, which came as a small surprise to the doctor. He followed her upstairs to the study, where she sat, losing herself in thought. He sat next to her, knowing her pains well. She was locked in a deep grief, as he was.

"Do you think he will be able to put an end to this," she said, trembling. Watson gave her a small hug, trying his best to provide comfort. But before he had a chance to answer, another voice spoke up. One that sent a chill through Renee's body, as the shaking stopped. In its place, her body froze, frightened.

"My dear little bird, he couldn't protect your sister. What on God's green earth makes you think he can stop us from getting you?" Moriarty stepped into the room. Renee recoiled in horror at this man. His dark presence seemed to take up the whole room. She almost didn't see the man stand behind him, eyes filled to brimming with lust for her. She tried to curl into Watson but he was no longer sitting beside her. He stood between the men and her. His stance had been born from years in the military. He wasn't going down without a fight.

Moriarty stepped to the side to allow Jack to deal with the man. A blade slide from its hiding place up his sleeve. Watson revealed his hidden sword. The two meet with such force that the room seemed to shake. Jack had the advantage on the crippled man and took his time. He would dodge at the last moment and then leave small cuts on the man. Moriarty moved toward Renee. "My little bird. How long I've waited to have you within my clutches."

Watson was slowing. The cuts were taking a toll on his body and while he slowed Jack grew faster. He weaved in and out leaving deeper cuts. Watson was not over matched however. He picked up on the pattern and traded blows with Jack. By the time the fight was winding down both men were covered in red and ready to fall over.

"Stop, stop it!" Renee screamed, backing away from Professor James Moriarty. She continued to back away until her back connected with the wall. Her body slipped to the ground, Moriarty cowering over her. "Please, stop hurting him," she begged, terrified. She heard a body connect with the ground. From behind Moriarty, she could see a smirking, dark eyed man staring down at who she knew was Watson. The staff the doctor had been using was now pointed at his chest.

"Then agree to come away with us, little bird. Leave this cage never to return," Moriarty chuckled as her face fell. Fear came into her heart as she saw the other man begin to push the tip of the sword closer to Watson's chest. She closed her eyes tightly. Holmes would find her, of course he would. She bit down on her lip, trembling. Moriarty enjoyed the reaction he was getting out of Holmes' pet. "Jack, do as you please to the doctor," he stated, turning his back to Renee.

"No!" She screamed, standing up. "I will go with you, just stop hurting him!" She screamed. Moriarty smirked, revealing his shiny teeth. Jack hid his smirk from the professor. He flipped the sword and hit it against the doctor's head. Watson saw stars, his eyes closing slowly. Renee watched in fear as his eyes shut, not knowing whether if they were going to open again or not. He had been injured horribly. The toll of the event took its place on Renee, causing her to fall to the ground, unable to stand, or let alone walk.

Picking her up, Moriarty walked out of the room, heading out to the carriage he had reserved outside of Baker Street. While he had wanted to grab her before the professor did, Jack had decided to bide his time. Walking out of the detective's study, he headed out to stage the murder. Before he walked out of the house, he turned around, towering over the doctor's unconscious body. Smirking, his fingers grabbed for his knife, dragging it along the doctor's arm. With the fresh blood, the Ripper left the sleuth a small message on the wall in the crimson.

Holmes returned, unsuccessful from his task. The house was quiet and still. He wondered where Watson was, as he did not respond when he called out to him. Deciding that he wanted a smoke to clear his mind from the failure, he headed up the stairs to his study. Opening the door, nothing would have been able to prepare him for the scene that lay before him. His eyes widened, unsure as to how to respond.


	13. Chapter 13

**AN:** Thank you for all the reviews. I can't believe we are this close to 400. :) Not that many chapters left, but I'm almost done planning the third part to this trilogy. R&R.

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Chapter 13:

Holmes yanked Watson off of the ground, placing him on the nearest chair. He knew exactly how this had happened. He pushed back any further thoughts, trying not to concentrate on the fact that Moriarty probably had Renee. Most of Watson's wounds seemed to be nothing more than long, but not deep, cuts, while the rest were bruises from obvious punches. Knowing enough from the years with the doctor as his partner, Holmes proceeded to take care of his friend's wounds, all the while pushing back his deepest fears.

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Awareness came back to Renee in small degrees. The first thing she became aware of was that she was lying in a bed. For a moment she thought she was in 221B Baker Street, under the care of her beloved Sherlock. The next thing to come to her attention was the feeling of something rough around her wrists. Without opening her eyes she tested the unknown object by moving her arms. Her arms stopped a short distance from her body as something bit into her skin.

Her eyes shot open, in an attempt to make out the appearance of the room. The room was dark to the point where she could hardly make out any objects in the room. However, she was able to make out what had been placed around her wrists. Ropes had been tightly secured to her wrists on one end, while the other kept her defenselessly attached to the bed.

Her mind tried to remember how she had arrived in this position, but her memory drew up a blank. She struggled, wanting to be free. But a sing-song laugh, low and yet threatening, reached her ears, mocking her attempts, making her spine shiver as her body froze.

Out from the shadows stepped a man who seemed to own the room. Even the light seemed to bend around him; too afraid to touch his blackened soul. He smiled a wicked smile, like the one a predator would give its prey before the strikes.

The smile creased his face distorting it into an evil parody of a human face. Fear lodged itself deep into Renee's heart as the man came further into the dim light. The shadows retreated and his face became more human making Renee wonder if she had even seen the image in the first place.

The man smirked, stopping just in front of the bed. "Ah my dear, at last I have you, alone," he whispered, putting emphasis on the last word. Renee felt a shiver run down her spine, her eyes widening in fear as his hand reached forward, aiming to touch her cheek. However, before it could, another voice spoke up from out of the darkness.

"What are you doing my dear boy?" The voice stated, seeming to demand the earth to turn. Out from the shadows a second man stepped. The first recoiled as if she was lava and touching her would burn him. He turned on the new man and seemed to shrink.

This motion scared Renee more than anything. If the first man was able to be scared by the second, the second had to be the devil walking in the flesh. Suddenly, the sound of the voice connected with her memory, making her body tense up, terror overcoming her. Everything flooded back into her mind. She was in the clutches of Professor James Moriarty.

The professor stepped forward and his eyes commanded her attention. He seemed to be pushing something from hand to hand, rolling it between his fingers. On one of the hand passes he stopped and held before her the ring Sherlock had given her. This made her mad and she fought the ropes. They bit and burned, but she wanted to rip the man's eyes out. His eyes danced in the light full of mirth at her pain. She struggled harder.

"My dear birdie, even if you were able to rip free from the ropes, you would not be taking this ring back. You see, I will not have Sherlock Holmes' attentions divide between you and me. I warned him of what was to happen should he ignore me." He laughed as fear darkened her face. "Does the birdie want me to tell you what I have had done?"

Renee froze; fear swelling up in her heart that something had happened to Sherlock Holmes. Her face must have revealed her thoughts, as the man chose to speak up once more. "No, my dear birdie, I have caused no _physical_ harm to the detective," he said with a smirk. This only made Renee worry more.

"You see little bird," The devil started to explain. "I have been in contact with your Sherlock for quite some time. I sent him letters, warning him of what would happen if he didn't pay attention to me. You remember the men who followed you? I sent them. I had warned Holmes about it but he ignored me and so you paid the price. Your sister had to die, you see, because he had to be made aware that he could not protect you. Now _he_ has paid the ultimate price. His love will have died at _my_ hands and he could not stop me."

At this Renee's eyes grew wide. The devil's laugh was worse than the other man's. It seemed that he found something funny and all the world didn't need to know about it. "Aww but we will not kill you little birdie." He cooed to Renee. "You shall live on with the knowledge that your love mourns you and will have no choice but to move on. And your precious Sherlock will forever be tainted by the love he lost to my hand. Welcome to your new home, Renee," he spat, using her first name for the first time since he had made his presence known in the room.

Renee couldn't keep her mouth shut any longer. "He will find me and when he does woe will come to the man who took me." At this the other man in the room smiled and advanced on her. He started to slide up the bed toward her his eyes tracing her outline. A knee to his groin quickly changed his mind.

The devil laughed and the man's face turned red. He reached for her neck and in the other hand appeared a knife. Fear wrote itself on Renee's face as the knife was brought down to her neck. "JACK!" barked the devil. "She is not yours. If you harm her, you forfeit your life." Jack pulled away, a glare directed at the professor. Renee stayed frozen in her fear. All she could do was hope that Sherlock was on his way to take her away from this nightmare of a place.

Jack sulked back towards Moriarty. With a flick of his head the professor told Jack to leave. Now alone with the devil of a man, Renee looked for an opening to freedom. But the man stayed in the way until the light that had flooded the room escaped once more. "Ah, now little birdie I can't have you leaving. I have so much to do, and I cannot have Detective Sherlock Holmes in the way of my plans. And with you out of the picture, he will be wrapped in grief and guilt."

Renee glared hard, causing the professor's smirk to shrink. She had convinced herself that Sherlock would find her, no matter how long it took. She knew that he would not leave her in the hands of his arch enemy. "Regardless of what you think, Sherlock will not fall for your trap. He will come and find me, and he will always put an end to your plans," she spat, glaring harder, not wanting to show the fear that was still launched deeply inside of her heart.

Moriarty couldn't help but to laugh at her statement. She was stubborn, but he knew that Holmes would be finished after his surprised arrived. "You honestly think he cares about you? Well, you will come to learn how Sherlock Holmes is incapable of loving anyone. He only loves his cases." With that the door slammed shut and Renee was left with her thoughts.

* * *

Holmes finished treating Watson and began pacing, waiting for his friend to return to consciousness. However, before the doctor awoke, there was a knock on the study door. Walking over to the door, Holmes found several members of the Scotland Yard, escorted by Inspector Gregson. Between the Yarders was a body bag. "There has been another victim, Mr. Holmes." He said, as Holmes stepped out of the way, allowing them to walk in. Placing the body on to the table, Holmes' eyes shut as they unzipped the bag, thick raven curls rolling out as the zipper began to move over the head of the corpse.


	14. Chapter 14

AN: Alas, we have reached the conclusion of Judgment Day. Please R&R! Sorry it has taken me so long to update this, but I promise I will put more effort into posting the following and final story in this little trilogy :) Thank you for all of your wonderful reviews. There will be an author's note to come once I get around to sorting out all of the final details for the next story. Thank you to all my faithful reviewers who have stuck through this story :D

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Chapter 14:

The word's circulated in the detective's mind. There had been another murder. But he knew that the victim was no other than his beautiful, special, Renee. He felt his heart sink down to the pit of his stomach before breaking. He saw the mouth of the Inspector moving, but he did not hear the words. Everything had been drowned out of his mind. Nothing played in his ears. All he could think about was what he had been told.

Holmes' head was pounding as the words continued to stab his heart. Pushing past the Yarders, he headed down the stairs and out of Baker Street without a second thought. He thought he heard Watson call out at him, but he saw too much red to do anything but to continue walking. He had no knowledge as to where he would find Moriarty. But he knew he would. He knew the twisted professor would be waiting to taunt him. But Holmes didn't care. He was going to end the life of the man who had taken his Renee away from him.

The words kept taunting him. Reminding him of what a failure he was. With each new mantra he started to speed up till he was running. He's feet pounding the cobblestone he ran to escape those words. As he round a corner a voice stopped him in his tracks. The buildings cast long shadows into the night. The voice was laughing at him, voicing all the contempt and hatred he felt at himself. This was a new voice it was not Moriarty. He turned to try and see the own of the cursed voice but all he found was a stirring of shadows. "Ah now dear Holmes, can't have you seeing the messanger and killing him." The voice snicked.

"You want revenge on the man who killed your lovely little bird? Well I know where he happens to be. Go to the burned out ruins that was once your beloved's home. Go! Before you he gets away." With a thought or a second glance back the sleuth's feet start to carry him toward the destination.

Holmes ran, no matter how much his lungs lacked air, until he reached the location. He heard a laugh fill the surrounding area. His eyes only filled with more red hatred in them. "Oh Holmes," said the familiar voice of the professor. "So glad you were able to find me. I was worried you were going to be too wrapped around in what I had done for you that you wouldn't come," he chuckled looking down to what was stood silent against him. He smirked. He knew that Renee would keep quiet so long as the gun was kept pointed at the detective. He laughed as he made her watch the detective's pain begin to appear on his face.

He looked around for the voice wanting to take his anger out on the man who had killed Renee. But it was useless. He had to stand there and listen to what this monster had to say. "Isn't this the place of you're first great failure? How appropriate that this shall be our final meeting place. You see after tonight you shall never hear from me again. I guess all the killing has left a bad taste in my mouth, for that reason I have decided to leave London."

He couldn't allow the man to escape. Sherlock started running around searching for the man. All the while laughter followed him. "Ah Sherlock, always the romantic. Trying your best to stop the man who killed your beloved. How... ignorant! I was always better than you and now you know how dangerous I really am! Because of you the world will soon feel my wraith! If only you had listened to me. But alas the great detective was brought low by a woman." The laughter tore Holmes with the force of a storm.

Sherlock saw fire. "You will never leave here tonight! I will find you and the world will never know the name Professor Moriarty!" Taken aback Moriarty looked at Renee. He looked deep into her eyes and saw the love that still lay there. This made him mad. Grabbing her Moriarty darted from his hiding place so he was closer to Holmes.

Moriarty chuckled in return, the laughter ringing throughout the detective's ears. "She died thinking you didn't want her, Holmes. Thought you would come and rescue her. But you never came. She died with this sad, broken look in her pretty little green eyes."

Renee fought back every urge to fight against the dark man and to run to Holmes. She watched as the hatred in his black eyes turned into pain, as he closed them tightly. Moriarty chuckled at the two of them. "It was a good deal of entertainment. But what is even more entertaining is the fact that I am going to be able to get away with murdering her."

Holmes shook his head. A slow smile began spreading across his face. "Ah, Moriarty your ego was always your biggest downfall. You think I will never stop searching? You think you can just run away? I promise you Moriarty, if I have to hunt you to the ends of the earth, I will find you and I will kill you."

Now the tables were turned, Moriarty was seeing red. His tightened his grip on Renee and pulled her close. "Your precious detective does not know when he is beat! He should learn to show some respect to the man who won the game." Holmes just continued. "After all these years you think you have won? The game is just starting! I didn't have my head in it before but now I shall play with all my power. You will be defeated and when you lay broken and dying at my feet I will remind you that you brought this on yourself!"

Flames blazed in Moriarty's eyes. His grip tightened on Renee. He leveled his gun on the laughing detective. A smile spread as he slowly pulled the trigger. Renee suddenly brought her bound fists up and knock the gun askew. The gun went off and Holmes fell. The laughing ceased and pride swelled with Moriarty. He had killed the infamous detective.

Whispering into her ear, Moriarty smirked, "Congratulations my dear, you helped me succeed," he laughed, beginning to drag her distraught body off with him. Renee began thrashing, wanting to run back and hold Holmes in her arms. Just as she ripped free from the professor's grip, she ran into another's chest. Jack gripped her tightly, dragging her along.

Renee couldn't bite back the scream that had built itself up inside of her any longer. "Sherlock!" she screamed just about as loud as she could as she watched his body become covered in his blood, not sure where the wound had hit him. He didn't move at her scream. Tear fell down her face as she continued to try and run to him. But as her view of his body disappeared, so did her hope. Jack picked her up, carrying in his arms, laughing. Plans were already coming to his mind when they reached Moriarty's hide away. Renee just remained silent, tears falling down her face.

Eyes still closed tightly, Sherlock Holmes felt himself lying on something more comfortable than what he had fallen down on. He opened his eyes and a bright light flooded into them, dilating his eyes. The sudden memory of a gun shut hit his mind as he recalled what had happened. Moriarty had fired a shot at him, but had missed. But the shock of the fire had caused him to fall, hitting his head on the ground.

His surroundings began to come into a clear view as he heard his name being screamed by Renee. Biting back tears, he realized that he was hallucinating. No matter how much he wanted her to be there, she was not. He had a quick view around him. Irene was there. She would have been the one to have brought him here. But he didn't want to be alive. He wanted to be dead and with his beautiful love.

Tears threatened to leak out of his eyes and destroy his composure. "Holmes." A gentle voice called his name and for a moment he let himself believe it was Renee. The voice called again and reality hit home. He looked to see who was calling him. Irene was calling him. He looked at her lovely face and realized that the most beautiful face he had ever seen would never look upon him again. Again he almost broke. "Holmes do you know where you are?"

It had been obvious the moment he had opened his eyes that the glaring lights and white walls could only belong to a hospital. "I'm in a hospital." He said, with no lack of emotion.

He tried to reign in his rebellious emotions while Irene started to to talk. "Was walking to your apartment when I heard a gunshot. Quickly following the sound I found the remains of Renee's house and in it was you. You were unconscious and bleeding heavily from a wound in your head. I called a carriage and brought you straight here. It was touch and go for a bit because of all the blood you had lost but you're going to be fine now." She smiled weakly.

Holmes looked around trying to take his mind off of Renee and letting Moriarty get away. He should have followed him! He should have pinpointed here his voice was coming from and tracked him down. Instead he was lied up in bed because he had fell and busted open his head. He would never forgive himself. "It's not you fault Holmes." A new voice joined in.

Holmes turned to the side, ignoring Watson's voice. Yes, it was his fault. Professor James Moriarty was still walking the earth while Renee Duncan was not. He closed his eyes, wanting to die. Wanting to be with her again. He had failed her. Images of her beautiful face flashed across his mind. HIs eyes shot open in a panick attack. Her memory would forever haunt him until the day he made Moriarty pay. And he vowed to do just that.

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The End.


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